Lovely Bones
by JRavenTheFangirl
Summary: "Will paused before entering his car, because he had to dig through his pocket for the key, then fit it in and unlock it. There was Halt's perfect chance to aim. Shoot. What would it look like when his body fell to the ground?" (modern AU where Halt is an assassin assigned to kill Will, but when the time comes, he can't pull the trigger.)
1. Chapter 1: Overcast

**Chapter One: Overcast**

The Sound of Silence came on the radio as Halt drove into the most populated area of Araluen. The song was just begging him to sing along, but he stayed silent. It _was_ the Sound of Silence, after all…

 _"Hello, darkness, my old friend… I've come to talk to you again."_

The sky must've inspired the radio station to play that song. It hadn't rained yet, but it was going to. It was so overcast that Halt predicted it would rain by the time night fell, but for now, it was still. Everything was still. There was nobody outside, and the few people that were outside were walking with their backs hunched and mouths closed.

Halt found the local Tesco store at 3:06, on a Saturday, in Araluen, England. He was exactly 24 minutes ahead of schedule. The sooner, the better. If things went like he'd planned, he could be in and out in three hours, or less. Even when the reason for the job was so very unusual, the process in which he would carry it out was not. Nor was his subject. Nor was the sky. The clouds always seemed to be like a grim reaper standing over him when he left for a job; staring at you and waiting for your heart to stop, but in the meantime you carried on. Halt had seen that grim reaper swoop down and take people, and yet it always just stood above _him_ ; staring; watching; doing _nothing_. It was a constant comfort telling him that he would get his chance. It was going to rain for him someday, but for now it would remain overcast.

Halt pulled into a parking space, and waited a few moments for the song to finish.

 _"And whispered in the sound… of silence"_.

As he stepped out, he felt the wind blow and carry the strands of his tangled black hair with it. His dark green hoodie kept him from feeling the coldness of the air, until he walked through the doors of the store and it was warm again. He thought of the photo he'd seen of his target, and his profile, and kept that in mind when he searched up and down the aisles. He was looking for two things; the first: something easy and quick to get, but not so futile that it would be weird for him to go out of his way for it. The second, and what he was really there to see: Will Treaty.

A bag of instant coffee was his answer to the first question. If he had to get something, he might as well make it useful. The second, he didn't need to look for. _It_ found _him_.

He found his person of interest renewing the stock of spices and sauces, down that same aisle. Halt didn't let himself have more than a second of a glance in his direction, and he spent that glance wisely: on his face. He was the first person he wanted to see, but suddenly he became the last. Suddenly his heart was begging his feet to carry him away, when he looked at his face, and felt guilt overtaking him.

On his way to 801 Seacliff Street, he turned off the radio. He flipped out his cellphone- his other one, and dialed the first number he had on speed dial. He knew what he was going to say before the other line picked up, two rings later. "I have arrived, and the target is confirmed to be here. Everything is according to plan." The man on the other side hung up seconds later.

Inside 801 Seacliff Street, he found everything but what he was there for. It was clean, but as he searched more and more, Halt saw that the cleanness was just a façade. Nothing inside that house was clean. The owner kept it up for appearances, but if you opened a drawer, you would see that all the junk he didn't want to put away was just shoved inside. In his room it was no different. However, all that was irrelevant as he could not find what he was looking for.

After an hour and a half, he left the same way he came: through the back door. He didn't have to pick the lock on the way out. He let his target's angry, barking dog out of the room he had locked it in, so that there would be absolutely no trace that he was there.

He walked out, and headed to his car. A chill caressed his cheek. The air was cold, but the sky hadn't rained yet, so he figured he was okay.

When he returned to the store, Halt chose a smart position on the other building that faced Tesco, on its right side. It was 4:49. He had ten minutes.

Even though it was close to time, there were two reasons why he didn't take out his equipment yet. One, his target may take a few minutes to gather his stuff and/or clean up before he left work, so that would amount to fifteen minutes rather than ten. That is, if he was even going to be able to get off in time. Two, he couldn't take the risk that somebody would see his gun and call the police.

So he waited.

He thought back.

 _"Can I help you find anything, sir?" he asked him, as Halt faked looking around for something else to buy._

 _"No thank you," Halt said, almost under his breath. He held up his instant coffee to show him that he got what he came for._

 _His target smiled. "I like that stuff too. It's good, isn't it?"_

 _"It is."_

 _"There's a Starbucks nearby, just by the way," he said. "It's pretty good, if I should say so myself. ..You're not from here, are you?"_

 _Halt spared him a glance, and shook his head. Their eyes met for half a moment before Halt turned away again. The smile his subject was giving him was off-putting, and confusing, and wrecking._

 _"I'm sorry if I offended you," his target said, suddenly kind of worried. "I'm getting too friendly. Excuse me."_

 _"It's fine. You were right. I'm visiting a relative," Halt replied._

 _"Oh, I see." Will's smile was back, and welcoming like he was holding out his arms and pleading him to come into his embrace. "I hope we don't disappoint. Have a good day, sir." He took the rest of his boxes to restock the store, and left Halt. After Will switched aisles, Halt snuck a peek down the next one he stopped in. No longer was that Will. That was his target, now, the person he'd heard about; eyes turned down and filled to the brim with nothing. Not even a fake smile that he flashed towards normal people like Halt could fool himself, or Halt, when he looked at him when he_ wasn't _shoving all the junk into the drawers. Now that he'd seen Will, and the smiling, youthful attitude he gave off, he could never look at him the same again when that smile faded and all that was left were the broken pieces of what was once a genuine happiness inside him._

 _Halt let out a small breath, or a whimper- but he refused to call it that, for a reason he didn't know. Maybe it was to alert him that his heart was breaking, when his nervous system couldn't feel it. Will heard it, and he turned his head to see who had made it. Halt disappeared out of his sight quickly, and left to pay with a straight face for his instant coffee, coffee that seemed more futile than anything else now._

Halt's target walked out of Tesco at 5:06 pm, on a Saturday, in Araluen, England. His gun was already uncased, and he just had to lift it up onto his shoulder, and aim. Nobody else was outside on the streets, looking at him. There was no chance that anyone would see him. If anyone was going to catch him, it was Will.

He kept his target's face in the middle of his scope. The point of intersection on the X stayed put right in between Will's eyes. As he moved, the gun moved, and Halt's finger stayed put hovering over the trigger. Just the slightest movement, and his target would fall to the ground. Or maybe he'd stay on his feet for a second. Maybe he'd be dead before he hit the ground, or maybe he'd be sent flying against the side of his car.

Halt banished those thoughts from his mind. Just pull the trigger. That was all he was hired to do. He wasn't hired to think about him.

Will paused before entering his car, because he had to dig through his pocket for the key, then fit it in and unlock it. There was Halt's perfect chance.

What would it look like when his body fell to the ground?

 _"Sorry if I offended you," his target said, suddenly kind of worried. "I'm getting too friendly. Excuse me."_

Halt squeezed his eyes shut, but that only made the flashes of his target's face clearer. The smiling front that was so tragic, Halt could feel his chest caving in. The distance that he put in between them didn't matter, and he felt like he was holding the gun to Will's forehead, and Will was looking right at him. He imagined his finger slamming down on the trigger, and the light in his eyes going out for good. His muscles squeezed together but refused to fall down on that trigger.

He heard a rumbling noise, and he opened his eyes. Will was driving away. His target was leaving.

Halt lowered his gun from off his shoulder. He promised himself tomorrow. Tomorrow he'd do it.

He found an apartment for the night. Only right before he got into bed, with all his thoughts of the day that actually felt more like a dream than a day, he remembered that it'd never rained.

 _"And whispered in the sound… of silence"_.


	2. Chapter 2: Sunset

The next morning, Halt woke up early, and put that instant coffee he bought to use before running three miles in the forest surrounding Araluen. The ground was solid; there were no drops of dew sitting on the leaves; it looked like it hadn't rained at all. The storm must've just missed them, because the sky was clear, and the sun was just rising by the time Halt finished his run.

And what's better than a nice cup of coffee in the morning? .. _Two_ nice cups of coffee in the morning! After running, he threw down the hood of his green hoodie, which had camouflaged him in the woods, and walked to find the Starbucks that Will had mentioned.

Right as he started to think about his target, he pushed those thoughts out of his mind. Being reminded of his promise to himself yesterday only hurt, and the more he tried to tell himself that a promise was a promise, and he had to do it, the more he really _didn't_ want to do it. But he couldn't _not_ think about Will for long, because when he walked out of the Starbucks, guess who was leaning against the wall outside?

He looked up from his cup, and saw Halt and smiled a little. "Hey, I guess you took my advice," he said.

Halt just stared, confused, and afraid to speak to him. "Do you remember me?" his target asked. "We met during my shift at Tesco the other day." Will fidgeted one hand in his pocket. His other hand held a cup of coffee much like Halt's.

Halt nodded, and stared down into his cup. "I remember," he answered, making sure his mouth was drawn into a thin line, if not a frown. He took a big drink.

His target lifted his cup up, and playfully said to him, "Cheers", then drank. They were now engaged in conversation, and there was no turning back for Halt; so he took the unmarked spot on the wall next to him.

But for a time they were silent to each other. Will didn't seem to have anywhere else to be, and the only thing Halt had on his list was to kill Will, but he didn't have his gun on him. He probably wouldn't have done it anyway. There was nothing he could do at the moment but stand there, and beg for a chance to get away. He didn't like interacting with the people that he was getting paid to kill. It was like having tea with the grim reaper before he reaps your soul.

"Did you go for a run before coming here?" Will asked him, out of the blue.

He must've noticed the beads of sweat on Halt's forehead. "Yes."

"How long?"

"Three miles."

Will's mouth formed an 'O', and he whistled to show how impressed he was. "That's _good_ … I've always wanted to be able to get up and work out, early in the morning, but the most difficult part of that, really, is getting up. Did you go out into the woods?"

"Yes."

"Your hoodie kept you camouflaged, didn't it?"

"You ask too many questions."

Will almost laughed. Maybe if his heart were in a different place, he would've. "I get that a lot." Then he corrected himself, "Used to."

"And now?" Halt couldn't stop himself from asking.

Will's smile faded, and floated so far away that Halt forgot he had ever been smiling. "And now I don't get as many chances to." The curly haired brunette took another drink of his coffee, with such an attitude that Halt was almost convinced it was alcohol.

There was a short period of silence, before Will said, "Can I ask another?"

"You just did."

Will rolled his eyes. " _Another_ another. What's your name?"

Halt was very reluctant to answer with his real name. "Ferris," he said. "And you?"

"Nice to meet you, Ferris. I'm Will. ..How long are you staying here?"

That was a good question. That was a really good question. "I don't know," he said. "As long as it takes." He took a sip out of his coffee and threw the cup away in a trash bin nearby, at the end of the wall.

"Are you leaving?" Will asked him.

Halt turned his head and looked at him directly for the first time that day. It was ironic that the first time that Halt got the courage to face him, Will was staring at the ground. "If it's okay with you..." he began, and Halt waited on the edge of his seat for the answer. Will's voice was getting quieter, and he seemed to be sinking deeper and deeper into something the more he spoke. "I know I'm a stranger, but stay here a little longer with me," he pleaded. "Please."

Halt nodded. The desperation in the boy's voice was unmistakable. He felt his muscles relax, rather than tense up, as his heart shook in his chest. "I will," he whispered back. Will's eyes lit up, but there was still no trace of anything but darkness in them. It made Halt want to never leave.

By some cruel coincidence, or joke made by a God with a good taste in dark humor, Will was wearing a grey, long sleeved shirt with white angel wings on the front. Halt had noticed this before, but he didn't quite catch the irony until now.

The sun was coming up higher on the horizon, and the town was yawning and stretching its arms as the sound of cars whooshing by became more and more frequent, and the drowsy feeling in the air was lifting.

"Are you working today?" Halt asked. Might be useful information.

"No," Will told him. "Sunday is my day off."

"I see."

"I'm always complaining for a day off from being bored, bossed around, and berated, but when I get one I never know what to do with myself. Is that weird?" he asked. He took a long sip, as Halt talked:

"Not really," he said. "Jobs like yours aren't meant to be fun. They're meant to make you money. You need a hobby outside of work, to keep you happy and busy when you aren't sad and busy."

"I used to have something like that."

Halt thought he was going to continue, but when he didn't, he was forced to think about those words he said. He looked for the second time at Will's face, when he was throwing away his coffee cup in the same trash that Halt had tossed his. When he returned to his spot, he stared not at the ground but at the sky.

The sun was coming up, in a swirl of beautiful pink and blue. The colors weren't separate, like what you would see sometimes in a sunset. The pink and the blue were holding hands, and shaking hands, and embracing, and getting tangled up in each other across the sky. It was beautiful, like a child had been born and the sky wanted the whole town to know.

And yet, a chill still blew past them, and tickled the skin on both of their faces. "I used to have something that I could think about," Will said, "at any time, and I would smile and tell myself to keep going. What do you do when you lose that? How do you go on after that? When you have no one to blame, you start blaming yourself, even though people told me it was just an accident… What do you blame it on? Fate? Fate can't be this cruel, can it…? It's supposed to leave you with _something_ , even just the tiniest sliver of hope that makes you feel like you're alive instead of just trapped in your own, never-ending nightmare… I still go home, and expect to see her. Just hoping, praying, that this past month has been nothing but a nightmare." He paused. "Has it done that to you?"

Halt let out a breath through his nose. If he opened his mouth before he knew what he was going to say, he didn't know _what_ would come out. "I think it's hard," he said, "to be left with anything… when you never had anything to begin with."

Will rested the back of his head against the wall, and nodded. "I guess so," he agreed.

Maybe a second or two of silence passed before Halt spoke up again: "Fate can be tricky. Sometimes it's hard to think that everything will turn out okay, and that everything happens for a reason; sometimes it's impossible. What I think… I think sometimes, horrible things happen. Horrible things happen, and there's no reason for it; they just do. You couldn't help it, and you can't fix it. They're not meant to teach you anything, and they're not meant to help you later on. They're not meant for anything; they just happen, and there's nothing you can do but throw up your hands, and say, "oh, well, this is terrible"… and hope better things will make up for it later."

"Has that worked out for you in the past?"

He paused. Then he answered, "I'm still waiting for the better things."

Will nodded again. "Me too."

He shoved both hands into his pockets, and rested his chin on his chest. "You can go now. I hope I wasn't keeping you from anything."

"No, you weren't." Halt stood off the wall, and without turning to him, asked, "Where are you going next?"

"Home. Why?"

"I'll walk you there." Halt started to head in the direction from whence Will had come. He didn't stop, even when Will didn't follow him, and instead stared like he'd dreamt up those words.

"What?"

Halt snapped, "Being alone after a conversation like that is dangerous for you, okay? Just be quiet and stop asking so many questions." He paused, for just a moment, and for just long enough for Will to catch up. They didn't talk, as Will led the way back to his house, because the silence, and the rare, slim smile on Will's face said enough.


	3. Chapter 3: Midnight

Halt knew it was inevitable. Eventually his boss was going to call and ask what the hell was going on, and why he hadn't returned when he was estimated to. Halt was one of his best agents, maybe _the_ best in the business, but if an estimated deadline wasn't met, Crowley expected to get a report of why not. When Halt got a phone call on the second cellphone he used for work, he was prepared to hear his boss nicely, but professionally, ask what the hell was going on. Crowley was friendlier than you might think the head of an assassin organization to be. But, instead of him, Halt heard another familiar voice on the other line.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Halt!"

Halt considered using their code names in the conversation, but then decided this line was secure enough not to. "Hello, Gilan," he answered. "Calling for Crowley?"

"You guessed it. How are you? What's going on?"

Gilan's questions that came two at a time reminded him of Will- which immediately brought him down. "There's been a setback," he said. "I'm still planning to carry out the task." He tried hard to make those words sound like lies inside his head.

"We figured. What's this.. setback you speak of?" Halt could almost imagine Gilan's eyebrows going up, and the sneaky smile fanning out on his lips.

Halt said, "Wi- the target went home with an acquaintance, and I didn't get an opportunity to do it without a witness."

"Oh, I see," Gilan understood. "Gotcha. I'll let Crowley know."

"Good."

"Next time, he's gonna tell you, you should give him a call. He was worried."

"Was he, now?"

"Yeah; I was, too. I mean, I know you're this crazy good, born-in-the-shadows-live-in-the-shadows kind of assassin, but still… stuff happens."

Halt nodded, solemnly. "Yeah," he mumbled. "Stuff happens…" And something had happened.

Gilan paused, and Halt thought he had hung up until he spoke, just before Halt was about to cut the line: "You seem odd today. You okay?"

"Do I?"

"Yeah. I dunno.. different. It's not like you to miss an estimated completion time, and then not call to report it." He laughed. "Are you getting too old for this?"

Halt snapped, infuriated, into the phone, "I am _not_ , and you know it."

"It's okay, you're still our best assassin," Gilan said. Then he corrected himself, "Well… for now." Even though Halt couldn't see him, he knew he was grinning again. It was audible through his voice.

"Mm? What was that?" he asked, feigning confusion. "The nostalgic feeling of a certain, old apprentice getting too cocky about surpassing his mentor?"

Gilan scoffed. "Whatever, old man. You just wait. You just wait…" After a short moment of silence, he took a deep breath, to signal a subject change. He said, "Okay, I've gotta go, and you should get back to planning your next move. See ya when you get back."

Halt couldn't take the instability out of his tone when he replied, "Okay. Goodbye."

It was silent on both ends, but he hadn't heard the phone click. Gilan seemed to be thinking; and finally, when he was done he voiced his thoughts, "Is it getting to you? Is that it?"

"I'm fine," he insisted. A voice inside of him was begging to tell Gilan what happened. They were close, and they always had been, ever since they were mentor and apprentice. Halt knew that if he told Gilan, he could trust him to keep his doubts a secret, but that wasn't enough to convince him to tell… Because he knew that if he launched into a speech about Will, and his situation, then tears would come to his eyes and make him look weaker than ever, and that's not the image he wanted Gilan to have of him. Somewhere in his heart, Gilan was still his apprentice, and Halt was still his mentor; his role model.

But it was also because he was so afraid of the right answer. Whatever Halt did, it would still be worse than if he had never gotten into this mess in the first place and just _pulled the damn trigger_. He kept thinking back to that day. It felt like an eternity ago when he first aimed at Will and imagined the light going out of his eyes- and suddenly, upon that memory, his eyes became foggy. "I need to go," he said.

Hesitantly, Gilan replied, "Okay. See ya later."

"Goodbye, Gilan." And Halt hung up first.

He refused to dry his eyes, because he was so convinced his eyes weren't actually watering. He was on the couch in his hotel room, without a mirror, so he couldn't have known that he was wrong.

Halt had gone to the grocery store (a different one than the one Will worked at) on his way back from walking Will home, to pick up a few small things for lunch and dinner that night. After he hung up, he made himself lunch.

It was only when he sat down with his bowl of stir fry, and faced the blank TV, that he realized he _didn't_ have a plan. He promised himself yesterday that today he was going to do what he had failed to do, and yet on the phone conversation with Gilan, when he said the exact same thing, he told himself he was lying. His two options: kill Will, or don't kill Will. There was no in between.

As he weighed his options- looked deeply into all of them, and thought it through with logic and precision (and let his stir fry get cold), he found more questions than he did answers. His head started to hurt after a while, so he stopped. No plan, no answers. He picked up a book, one that he always took with him on jobs, and read. He read until the world outside turned dark.

After an entire day of napping, Will was ready to spend the night wide awake. He walked to the only low-key bar in town worth going to, Gorlan Castle. It wasn't much of a castle. It was your standard bar, with a couple pool tables and a small, barely-there floor for dancing. He put on a grey jacket over his skirt and headed out at nine thirty, like he always did on his day off.

He never drank enough to have a hangover the next day, just drunk enough to forget about things for a while. But he was of age, and he never drove back, so it comforted him knowing that what he was doing was perfectly legal.

When Will walked into the bar, it was already starting to get crowded. His drinking buddies saw him from on the other side of the room, and called his name: "Heey, Will!" "Wha'sup?" "There ya are!" Two out of the three looked drunk already.

Conall, a brown haired Irishman, put his arm around him and guided him to the rest of the group: Logan and Archie. "How ya been?" he slurred.

"Alright," Will said with a smile. "Glad for a day off."

"Oh, I feel you, dude," said Logan. He lifted his drink to say cheers, even though Will didn't have a drink of his own. Will was working on that with the bartender.

"Hey," Archie said, "we're gonna play some pool here soon, wanna join?"

Will nodded, after the bartender left to get his drink, and accepted the invitation.

He was drunk, with the rest of them, by the time Archie (the pool master amongst them) won the first of many games. The biggest loser, Logan, had to buy them all another round of drinks.

Logan was a sore loser like he was a sore winner, and he swore that next time Archie would get his ass handed to him. Will and Conall glanced at each other and giggled at the idea, while Archie slicked back his dark hair and acted _extra_ cocky just to piss him off.

Archie tried to pick up girls somewhere between the second and third game, and succeeded in getting one's number. When he wouldn't let it go, Conall had to remind him that he could get any woman he wanted with his flawless, Irish accent.

"Then _prove_ it!" Archie exclaimed. He pointed to a pretty blonde sitting at the bar, alone, _waiting_ for a guy to approach her. "Her. Do her!"

But Conell just chuckled and shook his head. "Too easy. Even _you_ could do _that_." He leaned on the side of the pool table, acting like he had just said the coolest thing ever, but it was slippery and he ended up lying on the ground, turning red and crying from laughing too hard.

They were on their third game, and Will was on his fourth bottle. He usually didn't drink this much.. but tonight, he was miserable. All the thoughts that vanished when alcohol touched his lips didn't go away this time, and they were back and materializing into one person. One girl. The same girl every time.

They had her image perfectly. It was still, and forever going to be burned into the retinas of Will's eyes. Her long, beautiful, light hair that she would ask him to braid, even though he was terrible at it; her eyes, that were dark at first glance but in the moonlight would embarrass a supernova; her smile, that could lift him out of his darkest thoughts and into her arms; her body, the way she felt in his arms when he held her at night; _everything_. When she was thinking, she would twirl a piece of her hair around her finger, and when Will pointed this out to her she blushed, and denied it until he played with her hair every time she did it.

She loved it when he did that. Her favorite place to kiss him was just above his top lip, and it never failed to get his heart racing.

If she were here now, she would walk up behind him, and place her hands on the backs of his shoulders, and whisper into his ear for him to stop, and the whole world would quiet down so he could hear what she was saying. Nothing else mattered when she was there. Lying next to him, with her head on his chest, holding his hand, across the room, or across the world… he could feel her presence. He knew when she was sad, and she knew when he needed her. He _always_ needed her. That's why, when he finally got on one knee, and asked her to be with him forever, she cried and kissed him, and promised him forever.

He didn't think forever would be this short.

In the morning he would wake up, expecting her to be next to him, with her head on his chest, but until then… the smell of smoke and the taste of liquor on his tongue replaced the memory of how she smelled, and the taste of her lips on his.

But soon Will was leaning against the wall, eyes wet and choking back tears. The alcohol wasn't doing its job tonight. It was just making it _worse_.

"Hey," Logan said, joining him. "You okay?"

This time, Will shook his head. His grip on the bottle tightened. Over Nirvana, he managed to make clear the words: "No… Not this time…"

Logan, Archie and Conall exchanged sympathetic glances. The pool champion for the night clamped him on the shoulder, leaned in and said, "Ey, Will, you gonna smoke with us tonight?"

Will shook his head, like he had the last hundred times they asked. "It's still a no, and it's never _not_ gonna be'a no," he said. The beer was putting his tongue to sleep.

The three boys groaned. "Don't be such a pussy," Archie jeered. "It's good, a'right?"

"H-Hey," said Logan, "remember that quote- who's the guy that said, uh, 'Regret the things you did do rather than the thing's ye didn't?'?"

"Mark Twain," the Irishman told him. "It was Mark Twain."

"Yeah! Listen to Mar' Twain!"

"Was he talking about.. drugs?" asked Will.

"Nn, he was talking about…" Conall paused, "not that. Proba'ly." He reached into his pocket, and took out a pack of joints. He put one in his mouth, then distributed one amongst all three of them but Will, who still refused to take one, even after Archie offered the whole box.

"C'mon, Will. You've had, like, more than twice the usual, why not go all the way tonight?"

"I have work tomorrow... I-I can't... What if I get addicted?"

"S'what? And what're you cryin' about anyways, is it a girl?" Archie guessed. "It's a girl? Best way to forget 'em, this is. You'll feel like you're flying, like you haven't got a care in the world." Suddenly everything around Will became clearer. He could feel it all; the music pumping in him, the oddly unstable wooden floor beneath his feet, and the cold drink in his hand that was becoming more and more undesirable the more Archie described what it felt like to be _high_. "You're, like, you're so _happy_. That girl you're thinking of?" He imitated an explosion. "Forget you even knew her.

"A-And everything is amazing. I can't tell you how good it is, you, you just have to try it!" He pushed the pack closer to him. "Just one, Will!" he said, excited. "I swear to God, you're gonna love it so much!"

Will knew the effects of marijuana on the body. How destructive it was, and how easy it was to get addicted... but he felt himself take that last step over the edge, and he didn't care anymore. No longer was the alcohol enough to ward away those thoughts of what forever should have been.

Conall lit the end, and he was gone.

The music he felt before was now moving Will's whole body like it was the generator giving him _life_. His body was numb, because all of his senses were focusing on everything around him, from the cool dampness in the air, to the melody rushing through his veins. He and his friends- ..what were their names again?- laughed so hard tears were streaming down their faces. Will laid down on the floor to see what it felt like. It was amazing.

"T-Tooold you…" Archie teased him, wiggling a silly finger in his face.

Will giggled. "This iiiiis amazing," he said. "There's like…" he waved a lazy arm around to show them the colors in the air, "orange 'n green 'n… lookie. Do you see it?"

"Something… like that," Collan said, at the same time as he was letting out a breath.

It was hard to walk. Will kept bumping into things, so they just stayed in the corner together and talked, and smoked until they would smell like marijuana for a week. "Soo," Logan said, almost dozed off, "whasup with that gurl you menshond?"

"A, Alriss," Will slurred, "mah wife. Useda be."

"Aweewe, that _sucks_ ," Collan moaned. The other two joined in in scattered agreement.

"God, yeah." Will slumped down on the wall. It felt so good to rest his head down on the cold, wooden floor. The contrast of the dampness in the air and the warmness inside him was exquisite.

Will's brain was like one of those abstract paintings where there's way too much going on, and every inch of the canvas is colored in green, yellow or orange. But it wasn't busy, it was relaxing. And _swirling_. Swirling was a big thing. All his thoughts were mixing togethe r but everything collected as one, and this is what it ended up as: happiness.

"Ey, ey, shut up, okay?" Archie said, laughing and reaching over and pushing Logan's shoulder. "That's what he's here to forget, righ'? Sh- shut up about it. Okay?"

"Okay, okay, Jesus," Logan mumbled. He leaned his head against the wall and began to snore. The others started to laugh at him.

This was usually around the time when Will would leave, but usually he was drunk, not on drugs. It was midnight, but they were the only guys in there that were high. This bar wasn't one of the _creepy_ ones in town… but it wasn't lawful enough that anybody would report them.

Will lifted up his arm, to put the rim of his beer to his lips, but it slipped from his hand and after spilling all over his shirt and his pants, it smashed into pieces on the ground. "Awwwee," he moaned.

Conall offered his to him, but Will waved it away. "Nah, I'm good, I'm good," he said. "I've got, like, two pounds anyway." That wasn't enough to get another bottle. He grinned. "That was, like, my sixth. I'm gonna die." Will laughed at the idea, not being serious, but not knocking it out of his head for good.

"But y'know what?" He raised his cigarette and exclaimed, "It's a goddamn good day to die!" Archie and Conall cracked up, and raised theirs for a toast.

Most of the time Will was just sitting around, talking with the guys but when he got the chance he would strike up conversation with anybody, and most of them talked right back; but none of them felt like he did. Will didn't know why nobody wanted to experience the best feeling in the world, and he had only a vague recollection of refusing the drug at first, too. What an idiot he was…

"Ohhh, hey! I love this song!" Archie lazily announced, once. "What is it? I love this thing."

"Umm, Artic Monkeys," Collan said. "Do I Wanna Know?"

"…Eh?"

"Do I Wanna Know?"

"Whah? Know what?"

Collan let out a hoarse laugh, coming from deep inside his throat. "D-Dumbass," he stuttered. "It's the name of the song."

 _"Have you got colour in your cheeks?_

 _Do you ever get that fear that you can't shift, the type that sticks around like something in your teeth?_

 _Are there some aces up your sleeve?_

 _Have you no idea that you're in deep?_

 _I dreamt about you nearly every night this week._

 _How many secrets can you keep?"_

Will sang along in a small voice, and soon Archie and Collan joined him (Logan was still sleeping). Archie, though he'd claimed to love this song, couldn't remember a single lyric, but that didn't stop him from trying to compensate with words outside of the human language.

The world was slowing down, with Will's brain, and everything seemed to spiraling deeper into him, like the drug was invading his insides and taking over his heart.

The n it really slowed down. Every five minute song that played lasted an hour... Archie was gone, somewhere. Collan was gone, left with some girl, Logan was still passed out, and Will was alone. But, for once, he didn't feel alone. He was alright. For the first time in a long time, he was alright. And a _mess_.

His hair was going in every possible direction, his jacket was hanging on one shoulder, and there was spilled beer on his shirt. His eyes were puffy and red, like he had been crying for a month. He didn't know who he was anymore. All that mattered was the feeling inside of warmth, sloth, and the smoke going in and out of his mouth. In his mind they formed shapes that amused him.

This wasn't him at _all_. If his sober self had seen him in this state, he would've been angry and _ashamed_. But Will was weak… and now he was too far gone to know how guilty he would be in the morning, if he woke up. He was barely Will.

Will was laying sideways on a pool table when a guy walked in. He saw Will on the table with a cigarette between his fingers. Even when he got closer, Will could barely make out his features. The boy couldn't remember he had eyes. Eyes... what were those? Eh. Heh. Heheh.

"Sir," the distorted voice said. "Sir." The cigarette was lifted out of his hand. The arm that held it collapsed and hit Will in the head, but he just smiled.

"Sir, this..." he couldn't hear the man. There were images Will was seeing on ceiling that no one else was paying attention to: a mixture of colors dancing with each other: green, orange, and yellow, screeching with laughter and embracing and getting tangled up inside each other.

"!" was all he heard- if you could hear intensity, which he could. Will's body was almost numb enough to mask the feeling of being lifted up by his jacket and being carried outside.

Halt read so much that night that he finished a 600 page book, instead of planning to do what he was supposed to do. When he finished that, he went out and bought another book.. at one o'clock in the morning. He'd tried sleeping, and failed. Something was keeping him up.

Halt returned from the bookstore, to see police lights outside a pub. This wouldn't have meant anything to him if he hadn't recognized the lost, puffy-eyed boy being forced into the backseat; that lost, puffy-eyed boy looked at Halt, like he was looking at an empty field.


	4. Chapter 4: Morning

**A/N: Oh my god you guys are awesome… I'm so glad you're enjoying the story so much- the reviews I'm getting are absolutely shocking me. Damn, I got standards now. Standards? What are those !? I hope this chapter doesn't disappoint. :) You guys are amazing.**

Splashing cold water on his face felt like taking a dip into the atmosphere of an alien planet. Will looked up, water dripping down his chin, and then averted his eyes away from the weak trash staring back at him in the mirror. That wasn't him. He could never look like that: eyes puffy like cotton balls, and red like strawberries, and bags under his eyes so deep they were crushing his cheekbones. He felt like crying at the image he saw before him.

But he smashed his face against the towel, and wiped all the wetness away.

There was a man in the corner, watching, dressed in uniform, because Will was under police custody now and he wasn't allowed to be alone. In a way, Will was kind of thankful for that.

 _"I'll walk you there." Halt started to head in the direction from whence Will had come. He didn't stop, even when Will didn't follow him, and Will instead stared like he'd dreamt up those words._

 _"What?"_

 _Halt snapped, "Being alone after a conversation like that is dangerous for you, okay?"_

Will smiled on the inside, when he remembered that, because his lips were too weary to move. A feeling of desperation flooded over him.

 _"I know I'm a stranger, but stay here a little longer with me," he pleaded. "Please."_

 _Halt nodded. "I will," he whispered back._

Will thought, _I'm sorry, Ferris… I wasn't strong enough._ It was impossible for him not to cry now. Only when he lifted the towel up again did he realize that he had put it down, and was staring into the eyes of the junkie in the mirror again. Only, he didn't see that guy. He saw Ferris.

 _Now_ he saw himself.

Will didn't know if this was a reaction to being so disgusted at the person in front of him, or if it was solely physical, but he felt his stomach turn and jump up in his throat. He heaved over into the sink and faced the consequences of four beers and half a pack of marijuana.

After Will was finished throwing up his insides, he sat back down on the bench and the guard stood idly nearby. He was unnecessary. Will had no intention of running, because he wanted to face the consequences of doing something both destructive and illegal. But he was beginning to realize more and more as he came off his high that he was absolutely _terrified_ of doing what he wanted to.

And that was the biggest paradox. He started to wonder if he wanted to go to jail for this, or if that just the responsible person in him talking.

 _Let's look on the bright side,_ he thought to himself. He hadn't hurt anyone, thank God… right? He hoped. Will told himself that if he hurt anyone, there would be a memory of a struggle with the cops when they arrested him, but that wasn't concrete enough to easy his worries. He guessed he'd find out- they'd tell him.

He thought, _Never again. Don't you dare do that again, Will… Two beers, at the most, that was the agreed limit. What happened?! How did I become like this?!_

He turned to the officer standing guard nearby. "What's going to happen to me?" he asked.

His voice was so quiet it might as well have been a whisper. He thought for a second, when the man didn't answer, that he hadn't been heard. So he asked again. He saw the officer's eyes flicker to him, then back away, like Will was Medusa and if the man stared for even half a second he would turn completely to stone.

 _Why won't he look at me?_ Will asked himself. _Do I really look that disgusting?_ He looked down at his shirt, spotted with stains of spilled beer like splatter paint art. He sniffed the air, and caught the whiff of alcohol, drugs, bitterness, and silence.

Will wiped his stinging eyes with the end of his right sleeve. The last thing this face needed was tears. It hurt when he touched his eyes, but his heart took all the pain for them. It was doing that lately. How nice of it.. to collect all the pain and aches his muscles held and hurting two thousand times more for them.

He looked up. Even though he was clearly suffering, the officer hadn't turned his head. "What have I done?" Will whispered. "What's going to happen to me, officer?"

And right as he said that, he saw a very familiar face step in the door. He stood tall, with a shopping bag in one hand, and he looked at Will in an assertive way that made Will certain that this man had come to see him, and only him. He looked at him like there was nothing else to look at.

"Come on," Halt said, holding out his hand.

Will just stared. He didn't know what to say.

A cop behind Halt explained better, "Mr. Treaty, you're free to go. You've been let off with a warning… if you are reported to have been smoking, buying, or handling marijuana, you will be arrested and given a fair trial."

Will was so confused. His eyebrows came together; whatever words were on his tongue that he wanted to get out didn't budge, they just stuck there, and it was doubtful that he would ever get them unstuck. _What…?_ he thought. _How is that possible? I broke the law. And Ferris, he… what?_

Halt's hand was still outstretched, waiting for Will to take it. "What, do you want me to _un-bail_ you?" he asked, sardonically. Will felt like the words that reached his ears were only the tip of the iceberg of what was really coming out of his mouth. "Come on," he said. "Let's get out of here."

Will still couldn't take his hand, could he? It looked so far away. Seeing Ferris standing above him, reaching down so far below to offer him charity was like a close encounter with the third kind. Maybe there was a person behind him that Halt was reaching down to. That would make more sense. The only thing that didn't make sense was how Halt was staring into his eyes, as if Will was just like him. He looked at him like there was nothing else to look at.

"I can walk, okay?"

"I seriously doubt it."

Will insisted on being able to walk on his own, without using Halt as a crutch, but Halt wasn't having it. He felt like a burden. He apologized several times for it- for everything, but Halt brushed it off. Will was worried if the meaning even got through.

"Just let me try," Will insisted. He was very stubborn, and wouldn't back down. "I'll prove it to you."

"I'm not going to risk that you'll fall and hurt yourself. It would be even harder for you to walk after that."

Will struggled to get away from Halt. Ironically, he almost fell while trying too hard to make his escape, and that was the only reason why he got away. Halt knew that if they kept up this fighting, Will may hurt himself more than he would if he just fell on his own; so Halt let him go.

Will took one step, and he was fine. He smiled at Halt, like a peacock proudly showing off his feathers. That still wasn't enough to convince Halt he was wrong. He held his confidence, like Will held his. Then Will took another step, and his right knee betrayed him. He stumbled, unable to catch himself, and for a moment he saw a piece of his life flash before his eyes. Time slowed (to a _halt_ ), and when it returned to normal, there were a pair of hands around his body. The only things holding him up. The embrace of another person felt so new… Not just the embrace. Anyone could embrace a person. It was the powerful experience of being so close to someone that you can actually feel their entire body moving whilst touching only one part. There was no word for that.

"I told you," Halt grumbled. "I'll hold you up, okay? so don't be so impatient to go off on your own again."

Will avoided Halt's eyes. He looked anywhere but his face, specifically at the place in his chest, on his black jacket where his heart hid beneath all the layers. He leaned in closer to it, like if he got close enough he could hear what Halt was really saying inside there, all the feelings that his mouth prohibited. What _was_ really going on inside Halt's head? He had to wonder. He felt like he should know that, but they'd only known each other for a little more than a day. If they were so new to each other, why did Will feel like they were already one person?

It was a perfect time for his stomach to turn. Will yanked himself away from Halt. He stumbled, walking on his knees, going as far away from Halt as he could go before he threw up. He couldn't let Halt see him like that.

But while he it was still happening, Will felt the few strands of hair being pulled back away from his face, with gentleness that he'd only felt once before, by one other person. When he was done vomiting, he sat back on his heels feeling weak and ready to faint. He breathed like he had just run a marathon.

"Getting it out of your system is good for you," Halt said, compassion in his voice. "It's bad now, but if you don't do it, you'll get even sicker."

Will nodded. He tried to stand up again, but his knees were too weak to even try. The world wouldn't stay still. Was he going to pass out?

Halt knelt next to him, close in case Will did pass out. At this point, time was catching up to him, so Will could've easily passed out from disorientation _or_ sleepiness.

"It's… it's really late. How late is it?" asked Will, speaking in a low voice even though no one was there.

Halt recalled what it said on the clock just before he left. "Three o'clock," he answered. "In the AM." Halt would've let him stay in that spot for longer, but he was tired, and he couldn't imagine how tired Will must be. His apartment was closer, so that's where they headed, Halt's arm around Will, bearing 95% of his weight.

It was closer, and also, Halt didn't trust Will to be alone that night. He'd already done enough damage to himself, and he was going to protect him before he did any more. The only comforting thing about this was the knowledge that you can't overdose on marijuana.

"They had me stay for a few hours while you came down," Halt told him. He'd read his new book from cover to cover, but he didn't tell him this.

"Oh… I'm, I'm sorry."

"I'm not upset." Will was slipping, so he adjusted their position and got a better grip on his side before continuing down the empty sidewalk. "It's not like I had anything else to do."

"What about sleep?"

"Sleep is overrated."

Will disagreed, but it was only his opinion.

When no conversation led up to Will's next question, and he had no way to pose it but to bluntly ask him, he asked him. "Why did you do that for me?"

Halt didn't even hesitate. "Because you don't belong in jail," he answered.

"But I'm not going to trial," Will said. "Even if you bailed me out, I'd still have to be found guilty or innocent, because I broke the law… Why did he say I've been let off the hook? The law doesn't work that way, does it?"

"Do you ever manage to ask just one question at a time? Or does it always have to be multiple choice with you?"

Will looked at him quizzically. "Do I do that? Are you sure?"

Halt didn't even consider answering that.

"No, but seriously. How?"

Halt was almost to his hotel room. They were walking up the steps to the door, when Will asked that again.

"I have my ways," he answered vaguely. "Don't dwell on it. Think of it as a favor."

"Oh… well," he replied, awkward, "I'll have to do a lot to pay that one off."

"It's not a loan, it's a gift. No payback necessary." Halt dug through his pocket for the key to the room, but it was trapped under his phone, his wallet, other papers, and a small but deadly knife. His hand brushed against the knife, and his heart jumped into his throat. He pushed it aside; put those thoughts out of his mind; moved on and found the key.

Meanwhile, Will was studying the sky. It was dark, but at three o'clock in the morning, it ought to be. But it was also empty, like it wasn't a sky. It looked hollow. Maybe the sky was just a big hole, and there was nothing else on the Earth but Araluen. Maybe they were the only two people alive, because that's exactly what it felt like. Maybe the only light on Earth was the light of the street lights and of the small wall lamp next to the door.

Maybe the world would end in two seconds. It would be swallowed up by the sky, and it wouldn't be mass murder, because there were only two people there. That wouldn't be so bad, would it? Now that he thought about it, Will wasn't sure if he would mind the world ending. Right at that moment, and not a second longer. He kept staring at the sky. At the hole. When was it going to take them inside?

"Any stars?" Halt asked.

Will answered, "No. Just a hole."

Halt nodded. Silently, he agreed. It certainly looked that way. Their new sky became the ceiling, after Halt led Will inside to his temporary home.

Will was blown away when Halt turned on the lights, and he said, "I expected a hotel room… this is more of a suite." True.

Perhaps the suite was a little too extravagant for his cover story, even though it was small compared to how grand the word sounded, but he'd never expected anyone to come inside, or care. Plus, he liked being able to cook for himself.

He walked with Will to the bed, and Will fell down on it like he hadn't seen a bed in eight years. In the five seconds that he had been there, it was already home to him.

Halt watched him bury his head in the pillows, while he took off his jacket and hung it up in the closet. "Have you decided which bed you want yet?" he asked, sardonic.

Will smiled. His words, "Yes, actually I have," were muffled by the pillow.

"Don't fall asleep yet," Halt muttered. "You'll want to change your clothes."

Suddenly Halt was stabbed with a spear of silence. A pause. An exclamation. Like a knife in the back of his heart. He turned, to see why he'd been stabbed, and the murder weapons were Will's eyes. Carving into him.

The silence wasn't hitting them like the sharp end of a needle anymore, it was fragile. The slightest movement could shatter it and something nameless would happen. "This is a really nice place…" Will whispered. "Why am I here?"

Halt dared to lean against the closet. "Because you weren't strong enough to make it to your house," he answered, also whispering.

Will's heart was in his ears. Halt had no idea. When he understood completely what was going on, it was too late and Will was already making an escape plan. There was a window by the bed. If he got a big enough start, he could crash through it, or open it and jump out. Maybe break a few bones. But that was okay.

He stood up from the bed, slowly… careful not to disturb the silence… It was still fragile, like ice.

That was when Halt understood. "Wait, Will…" he said. His habitational tone that most times lacked empathy was gone, and replaced with quite the opposite. "I don't mean that."

"You… can't be too careful these days," said Will. "I had this friend once, who had something similar happen to him. You and I have been running into each other for a few days now."

Halt shook his head. "No, no, don't think of me like that. I wouldn't hurt you."

"How can I be so sure?"

How could he? It's because he was right.

Sort of.

Halt wasn't here to do what Will was thinking, but he had to do something similar.

His thoughts went back to the small knife in his pocket. It was right there. He could grab it and wield it in less than a second. Will wouldn't have a chance for escape, and Halt never gave anyone his real identity. He'd used his fake one, Ferris Butler.

He could be out of Araluen in an hour and back to headquarters by the morning light…

He could put this all behind him…

…

But…

Will would die with fear in his eyes, and he would die fearing Halt.

The idea of Will's blood on the sheets… spreading slowly as the first drops of rain finally started to fall outside, from the hollow sky… was a thought that made Halt feel indescribably ill…

Halt looked into his target's eyes. Red, but revealing some brown inside the iris. Tears in them. One slid down his cheek and Halt wanted to run away from this job forever. Go off. Take Will with him, or don't. But he knew he would. He could live on his fake identity, and it'd be a hard life, but anything would be better than seeing Will lying on the floor, bleeding, looking into his eyes with fear and hatred.

He reached into his pocket, and wrapped his fingers around the item when he found it, lying on top of the pile.

His car keys.

He held them out to Will. "Drive yourself home," he whispered, so ghostly that his words were taken away by the silence as soon as he said them. "Not now. When you know you can drive safely. I won't force you to stay here."

He had imagined sleeping that night with Will safely in the other room, breathing, _alive_. The thought of Will alive, breathing, actually gave him chills, like it was something hush hush that should be kept on the down low; controversial, but tempting. But Will had a point. And if it made him feel safer, then so be it.

Will was very cautious whilst leaning forward to take the keys. When he finally did, and stood up, and started to walk out the door, he found to his surprise that Halt did nothing. But that didn't stop him from leaving.

Halt had imagined sleeping that night with Will safely in the other room, breathing, _alive_. The thought of Will alive, breathing, actually gave him chills, like it was something hush hush that should be kept on the down low; controversial, but tempting. But Will had a point. And if it made him feel safer, then so be it.

 _"_ _Insanity: doing the same thing over and over again and expecting different results." – Albert Einstein_

But when he had those thoughts again, he found something different. It led him somewhere else. It led him to something much, much scarier.

He thought:

 _Will made the right choice._


	5. Chapter 5: Noon

_"We're never done with killing time._

 _Can I kill it with you?_

 _'Til the veins run red and blue."_

Lorde's 400 Lux was on. Will was sitting in the driver's seat of Halt's car and listening to the radio, waiting until he felt like he could drive straight. He was still too disoriented and nauseous. The window was rolled down, just in case he _did_ get the urge to throw up again. Not from the high…

 _"You pick me up and take me home again._

 _Head out the window again,_

 _We're hollow like the bottles that we drain."_

His thoughts were so scrambled. He hadn't been _paralyzed_ with fear when he was in Halt's room- in fact, he was slightly impressed with how calmly he handled the situation.. even if it was only on the outside. Of course, all thoughts of being impressed with himself were put through the wringer before they really got anywhere. But now the time to keep a clear mind was gone. Now he was paralyzed trying to recover from the experience. The only thing that helped was keeping the doors locked.

Will had to stop thinking about this. About Ferris. He was close to tears, and he'd cried way too many times already in the past 24 hours.

 _"Now we're wearing long sleeves,_

 _And the heating comes on."_

Snap-

Will choked on his heart and flew into the passenger seat, away from the sound. He was gasping, but he couldn't afford to make one noise out loud. His muscles were trembling like a violin bow set on the strings, waiting impatiently to sing the first note.

Will had always had such good intuition. He could feel the atmosphere, and nine times out of ten accurately predict if something really bad was about to happen- and that 10th was just there because nobody's perfect, but he might as well have been.

And he could feel it in his hollow bones, shaking him to the core… something was going to happen to him…

Who was there?

Silence?

…

…

A squirrel, most likely. He waited a full minute before settling down. The feeling just wouldn't go away…

He had to stop thinking about it, he really did. It would just put more weight on his shoulders and eventually drag him down so far he would have to hunch over when he walked. And since he couldn't get high, or drink, right then, the only thing he could think of to do was sleep, and pray he didn't dream about it.

 _"What about sleep?"_

 _"Sleep is overrated."_

Will chuckled to himself. He kept thinking about it- about Halt. He hated remembering moments like that, just like he cursed himself for remembering moments with _her_.

Two people. There were just two people he wanted.

If he had been in that building, before the oil caught flames, then she wouldn't have died feeling so alone. He could've held her in his arms, until the very last moment, comforting her, letting her know that whatever happened here, he would always be there on the other side. And that was as good as heaven. Her face could've been the last thing he ever saw, and vice versa; and he would've been okay with that. He would give his life to die like that. That would be _better_ than heaven.

He started to imagine a scenario where that had happened. He spread out his arms like she was there, and looked into the empty space where her amazing eyes would be, staring back into his and sharing the love inside her that was the same as the love in him… God, he wanted that. Just one more time. Then he could die with nothing else.

That was twice recently that he could pinpoint a moment where he would willingly die, and feel fulfilled. One with her, one with.. him. Right before anything happened.

And yet here he was. Here. Having survived those moments where something _did_ happen and snatched those moments away, as quickly as they came. Why couldn't they just stay? Why couldn't he just die with them?

 _"We move in the tree streets._

 _I'd like it if you stayed._

 _And I like you._

 _And I like you._

 _And I like you."_

He had closed his eyes when a breeze rolled into the car and stroked his cheek like the grim reaper singing him to sleep, and as the song ended, starting a new lullaby for him. One of death, and silence. The clock struck 4 am.

Thoughts of him and her snuck into his mind… hijacking every other thought… He wanted so badly to have overreacted to that man's generous offer of giving him shelter for the night.

His head said no, he hadn't, and his heart said no, he had. What if he did go back, and he was wrong? What if he did go back, and he was right? If so, then… He needed to drive away. He needed to run or drive and get away from everything. Or else maybe Halt would see that he hadn't left.. and that he'd fallen asleep.. If so, then.. So what?

And that was ultimately why he fell into a sleep that, while coming from less than uplifting thoughts, was more than satisfying… in so many ways…

"Will.."

"Mm."

Will could see light on the insides of his eyelids, but he was afraid to open them because it looked so bright. The voice he heard was enough to give him something nice to see. Something beautiful.

"Will," she whispered, more urgently, but still keeping that gentle tone that she always used with him. Not angry.

"Yes?" Will whispered. His eyes were still closed, and all his other senses were awake. He could almost not feel her in his arms. She was just another part of him. An extension- no, a completion.

"We should get up…" she whispered back, her breath falling like feathers on his skin.

"Oh really?"

"Mhm." Two soft lips crawled up and pressed themselves to the skin above Will's mouth, the way he knew so well. "Will, it's time to get up."

Will opened his eyes.

The sunlight sparkled on the white sheets like it used to on her hair.. just darker.

Then there were a few precautions Halt had to take.

One: When he made the pancakes, he put all six on one plate, excluding none and making sure nothing stood out.

Two: No drinks were already served.

Three: All the weapons, all his guns and all his knives, were off his person and hidden in places that only snoopers would find.

Four: The door was unlocked and several windows were open.

That, he thought, was the least he could do.

The way the light shone through the white curtains told him it was way too bright to be early morning. The alarm clock next to him read: '2:13'.

2:13?! Will didn't know if he'd ever slept in longer than that… granted, he probably got to bed at 4 in the morning the night before, so that was ten hours. Coupled with the events of that night and…

 _The events of last night._ Everything he hoped he could forget was right there, all around him, staring him in the face. Where was he, again?

Definitely not his house, but it still looked familiar, as did the living room, outside his door, and the person waiting for him in the kitchen. Everything in his body told him to _run_.

"Will…" Ferris muttered. His lips barely moved to speak.

The two's eyes met for the smallest moment, and then they both looked away. "I was going to stay up until you left," said Halt, "but it got as early as five o'clock before I found that you'd fallen asleep. I thought maybe a bed would be more comfortable."

He bowed his head to him; surrendering. "You're allowed to leave," he continued, "if you want. If not, I did make this breakfast big enough for both of us."

 _Okay…_ Will looked down at his clothes. His jacket was gone, hung up on the chair in the bedroom, but everything else was there. His sleeves were rolled up from rolling around on the bed, trying to get comfortable. The left one he pulled down.. before answering Halt's thoughts:

"Okay."

Will sat down, in the seat across from Halt. Even though the older man was trying to look as trustworthy and convincing as possible, Will could see the relief in his face. He wanted him to stay.

Halt gestured to the plate of pancakes. Perfect, inhumanely golden brown pancakes. Will took two, and Halt took all the rest but one.

"Coffee?"

"Yes, thanks."

He poured them two glasses out of the same pitcher. He also made his coffee perfectly. Why was this guy such a great cook?

Will swallowed the first bite of his pancakes and asked, "What's that?" nodding towards something on the counter, covered by a blue towel.

Halt bit his lip. He wanted to refuse an answer, but the look Will gave him was boring into his soul more than Will could've ever known. Halt didn't feel like refusing anything to him. He swallowed his pride and took the towel off the plate of fifteen (at least) well-made pancakes.

Will crossed his eyebrows. "Is that enough for both of us?" he asked. "Maybe you're a little short."

Halt sneered in faint recognition of his sense of humor. "I wanted them perfect," he said. He poked and prodded at the first one on top. "The edges are a little black on this one. And on this one, the bottom is a little uneven."

Will's lips curved into an unanticipated smile. "Well what are we going to do with all of them?" He got up and joined him by the counter.

"I don't know." _We_. Halt repeated that word over and over in his head, because he loved the way it sounded. And he withheld any expression of it.

"Maybe leave them out for a hobo," Will suggested.

"A _hobo_?"

"Well, that's a little insensitive. I mean somebody who can't get food. It'd be a waste to throw them away."

Halt nodded.

The pancakes were left outside on the sidewalk, with a paper sign that said "Free (Imperfect (written by Halt)) Pancakes". Will and Halt smiled at their nice work, like it was a new invention that was making the world a better place.

And the bonds that held them tightly wary were cut.

"How long did it take you to make those?" Will asked him, when they were back at the table again.

"How long did it take you to think up a question for every cell in your body?" Halt said. "An hour and a half."

"Oh. That's a while."

"Is it?"

"Yeah. I mean, for cooking."

"You've obviously never cooked for yourself before."

That was true. For the past month he'd been getting takeout. "How long did you even sleep?" he asked.

"That doesn't matter," Halt said. He waved the question away. "I don't usually sleep very long. Never into the afternoon."

"Oh, same," agreed Will. "Of course, that's because I have to get up early for…" He gasped. " _WORK_!"

He rose out of his chair and rushed to the door too quickly for Halt to call him back. Halt had to get to the doorway before him and stand guard in front to keep him from leaving.

"No," he demanded. "You're not going to work today."

Will glared at him, but he wasn't angry. He was just frightened. "I have to!" he said. "I can't just _not_ show up one day!"

"Then call in! Too much happened to you last night! You slept until two o'clock for God's sake. You're not ready to work yet, _obviously_!" Halt was yelling now. He hoped he didn't sound angry, either. He didn't want to scare Will. Not again.

And yet Will still looked scared. Confused. But he'd never understand.

"Wh…" Will said… "Don't you have something else to do besides waste your time with me?"

Halt surprised both of them with a laugh. He laughed, because of the absurdity of the idea. How… ridiculous that sounded to him. He laughed not too hard but he could feel tears coming to his eyes, because of the… that idea.

"No," Halt said. "In reality, Will, it's the other way around."

"But you have relatives," Will raised an eyebrow, "supposedly, to see. I haven't seen anybody, though…"

Halt had stopped laughing. He knew it was only a matter of time before Will caught on. Will continued, like he was figuring it out all in the moment. "All evidence says otherwise. You buy this separate, big room instead of just staying with them… You make your own food instead of going out with them… Why are you here, Ferris?" his target asked. "Because I know it isn't to visit family."

Halt nodded. "You're right," he muttered. But how to say it? How do you say…

"I'm here to kill you."


	6. Chapter 6: Clear

**A/N: Overcast isn't a time of day, but it is a state of the sky… same for clear. Right? Yes, that is my justification. I was originally going to name this.. Noon Part 2, but I realized then that would mean the chapter order is: Overcast, Sunrise, Midnight, Morning, Noon, and Noon PART 2. Aha, yes. How poetic of me.**

Halt returned from his bedroom, surprised to see Will still there. He was certainly shell-shocked from Halt's blunt reveal of his true objective.

Halt handed the younger man a small laminated card: his driver's license. His _real_ driver's license.

 ** _Mr. Halt O'Carrick,_ ** it read. Will silently mouthed his real name.. Halt wished he would say it out loud instead.

Halt took in a deep breath and said:

"Ferris is just a fake name. My real name is Halt. I am an assassin working for the government organization the Ranger Corps, which specializes in training, hiring, and allocating some of the best, highest-grade assassins in the country. Four days ago they assigned me to kill you."

Will looked up to meet his eyes, something that had happened so many times before, but something they still weren't used to. Halt gave him a chance to respond, and Will did not.

"One week ago, your father, Daniel Treaty, a hired employee of the Ranger Corps, stole classified information about the organization, the government, and the hired men and women secretly working for them.

"The Edward Snowden of England, I suppose you could say, he posted the secrets online, but, by pure luck, we were able to find them and take it all down before it became too public. Then we caught Mr. Treaty…"

He started to choose his words carefully. From the look on Will's face, he knew where this was going way before Halt finished.

"And we killed him."

In the short silence, short opportunity that Halt gave Will to respond, Will took it. "They called me and said he had died in a car accident. I knew it was all lies."

"You were right. Days too late, we discovered that a package had been sent out on the day of his death. It could be nothing important, just false evidence, but what caught our attention was that it was sent to his son's house. Your house."

Will looked up again.

"Through further, vigorous investigation, we found evidence of something being printed off in Mr. Treaty's department. They could very easily be paper copies of those secrets we supposedly removed all evidence of in the public world.

"The mail truck it was loaded onto was delayed, and later disrupted. We lost track of the package… and that's where I come in."

The next piece of information he really didn't want to reveal… but he couldn't stop there. No half measures. He had to tell Will _everything_.

Halt said, "While you were at work, after we first met during your shift, I broke into your home and searched your house for the documents." Will's eyes flashed with betrayal. "I didn't find anything, but I am sorry. Very sorry."

Will's voice was tense now, as he slid over the license to Halt over the table. "So where does the killing come in?"

"While creating my mission for me, my boss's bosses realized that even if the documents from your father never existed to begin with, or I reached you in time to get them… that there's a strong possibility your father still told you some things about the Ranger Corps and England's inner skeleton. You two were very close, after all."

"We _were_. For the past few years, we've hardly talked at all," Will said. He was focusing very intently on his hands, closed together, resting on the table. His voice was barely a whisper; still, Halt could hear it like it was a clear thought in his own head.

"Suddenly, he just had to go… and he couldn't explain why. It was a new job that he couldn't tell me about… something important. And then he was so distant. He didn't come to the wedding… But… he sent something to me, apparently," he muttered. Tears were trembling up in his eyes… "What could he possibly give me?"

Halt took a deep breath. He reminded himself he had to keep his composure. "He talked about you a lot," he said.

"Your father loved bragging about his smart son, happy with a beautiful wife. He joked about getting grandkids soon. He really wanted some." Halt pushed a creeping smile away. He continued, "But you were his favorite thing to talk about."

"Really?"

"Yes. I didn't have too much contact with him, being in the field most of the time… but he was a nice man. I had a lot of respect for him."

Will smiled. A relieving sight. Halt could only imagine what was going through his head… he wish he knew.

 _So he didn't…_ Will thought, _he didn't forget about me._

Halt paused, and then asked, "He never said anything to you about information in the Corps?"

Will shook his head.

"I know," Halt said. "I don't even know why I asked."

"And that's why you hesitate to kill me?" Will said.

Halt could've nodded. Surely, he could've, but surely it was too late to lie convincingly to him… right? Too late to say 'yes, that's it'. Too late for simplicity.

Halt shook his head. "No," he said. "That's not it at all."

Will thought about this whole deal deeply. He also thought about what Halt had said. _Halt_ … that was new. He had to start calling him that now, didn't he?

"Then what is it?"

"That's a good question."

Will smiled. "I seem to have a lot of those, don't I?"

He had another one, too. It was the same as Halt's. The question was burning an acute hole in their mind's, like one single drop of acid rain on the hood of a rusty car. It was only one drop, one small drop, but one small drop was enough to create an ocean of possibilities.

Halt wished he could put _his_ answer into words.

What words could describe why he would rather _die_ than kill Will? What words could describe how, when he looked into Will's eyes, he saw shards of shattered glass inside that looked exactly like the broken pieces inside his own…? Whatever answer he gave him, it would still leave their lovely bones unsatisfied, so he had nothing to say.

Outside, someone discovered the pancakes and whooped in joy. He looked both ways, even though it was very clearly stated on the paper that the pancakes were free, for anyone watching. Then he took the plate of pancakes and ran without looking back.

It was a nice day. Only a small trace of a chilly wind running by, like a small pinch of grey blended in in a pool of white. The sky was clear…

"Why me?" Will asked, when all was silent again and Halt had concluded his story, and they had moved from the table to the couch. They sat close, next to each other, but not quite touching. "I mean, why not send it to some huge agency and have _them_ reveal the files?"

"Well," Halt answered, "there's not guarantee they'd put them out to the public. They might demand a ransom from the government in exchange for the secrets- which would, then, subsequently fail. You're the only one he trusted with those secrets, because he knew you'd do the right thing." Before he knew it, the next words were spilling out of his mouth: "I'd do the same."

"Guess it's too late now," Will sighed. "You're here now."

"I doubt the files had ever existed on paper in the first place. It's highly unlikely he would ever get the time to print them off without anyone else seeing. I'm here out of pure speculation, and… paranoia."

Will gave him a sideways glance. "You think so?" he asked.

"Yes, I do."

Will nodded. He didn't seem to agree, or disagree, but he wasn't doubting Halt's opinion. He was just very deep in thought… The thoughts inside his head felt like the truth compared to the public's conspiracy theories about the world.

"We hadn't talked in a really, _really_ long time," Will whispered. "I almost thought… that…"

"That he forgot about you?" Halt finished.

He worried that he was trying to talk about something he knew nothing about, until Will said yes. "Did he really talk about me that much?"

Halt nodded. He could say, with full honesty, "Yes. He did. He loved you."

Will's head tipped over and fell like a feather onto Halt's shoulder. Wow. He was really light.

"I swear on my life, Crowley, this boy has nothing to hide."

"You sound so sure, Halt," answered his boss.

Halt took a breath and didn't let his voice raise… even though he felt like climbing on top of the apartment building and _screaming_ that Will should live. He was committed now. He knew that no matter how suspicious Will was, he could never lay a finger on him.

Halt held the phone steadily in his hand. Will had left about ten minutes ago to go back to his house, carrying plans for dinner in his head, and, hopefully, holding new trust for Halt in his heart. Now he knew it all.

But Crowley did not. Halt tried to convince him of Will's innocence with just Halt's own passion and persuasion, not facts. If that was even possible, Halt would find out soon enough. Crowley was a kind-hearted person. Why he was even in this business was a long story, but it hardly suited a reasonable, friendly man like him, even if he could be tougher than a metal beam when he wanted to.

"I am sure," Halt said.

"Why are you so familiar with him?"

"I accidentally ran into him," Halt said. "We got to talking, and I asked him casually about his family… He said his father just died, and that he hadn't had any contact with him for years."

"That's all very well, but if he had government secrets with him, he would definitely lie about it."

He was right. Now Halt's lies felt like shriveled up raisins. They were so unconvincing. The only way to truly lie was to convince _yourself_ of the lie first… but Will was so goddamn real that Halt just couldn't lie.

"Halt, tell me really," Crowley said, after a pause… "why is this boy so different from the other people you've assassinated?" Even if it was awkward to work his way around, Crowley _hated_ using the word "kill".

Silence on Halt's end.

"I'm not really in charge of this," Crowley said. "But I think I get it."

"I think you do, too," Halt replied.

"It gets hard after a while, doesn't it…? …Killing people…"

Halt nodded. "Yeah," he whispered.

"I get it…"

And he exploded. "He's young. He lost his wife. He lost his father. He's drinking, and doing drugs." Half true. "Crowley," he said seriously, "you know me. You know this isn't like me. And you also know that I don't ask for much. But just grant me this one…" Oh, god. Who invited tears to come out?

"I _will_ not kill him."

It was all silent on the other end. Crowley was no doubt shocked by Halt's new, overflowing cup of feelings. He'd only seen this… _maybe_ twice before in the decades they'd known each other.

There was really no other way to say it than the way that Halt couldn't put into words. If he could only shove his heart into Crowley's chest, or push him into his skin when Will leaned his head on his shoulder, maybe he'd understand.

…

"I'll talk to my bosses."

Halt nodded quickly. "Okay." He told himself to calm down, and he did.

"And, Halt?"

"I'm not crying."

Crowley let out a big, hearty laugh. It was relieving. It shattered the tense atmosphere and allowed Halt to breathe for the first time in three minutes. "I know. But, Halt… I would've done the same. I don't want anybody to die, either."

Crowley was still smiling on the other side of the line. Before Halt could answer, if he would've answered at all, his boss hung up and he was left… half satisfied.


	7. Chapter 7: Dusk

**A/N: This took way longer than expected, I'm so sorry... School has been so busy. I hope this chapter turned out okay. :)** **After all, there's only two more to go..**

"A table for two under Butler, please."

The hostess nodded and smiled. "Sure thing." She glanced down and wrote Halt's fake name on the waiting list. "That'll be about just a few minute's wait."

There was an empty bench by the door for them sit on while they waited and listened for their party to be called. The restaurant wasn't too full. They suspected that the wait was just giving time for new tables to be wiped down and ready for customers. It was almost a pub… not too fancy, not too casual, but it didn't look dirty by any definition of the word.

Will kind of confirmed that, as he took off his grey jacket and said, "This is a really good restaurant."

"Oh? I haven't been here before," was Halt's reply.

"It is. I've come here a few times." With his jacket just tied around his waist, a thought made him freeze. Halt waited, on the edge of his seat for an update on Will's thinking. But when Will came back into the real world turns out all he was thinking was:

"Two. Two times I've been here." Halt thanked him for the precise confirmation.

They got a booth, like they'd asked. The blonde waitress introduced herself as Jess, and handed them a couple menus. "Can I get you two some drinks?" she asked. "They're on the last page."

Will skimmed over the drink menu at the bottom of the second page. There were a selection of beers there, and he felt a little temptation grow at the thought of a sip of alcohol… Then he saw Halt, and knew he didn't need it.

He turned to the waitress, "Just a water, thank you."

Halt got… coffee. Will knew it was only natural to express how ridiculous getting coffee at dinner was- and Halt dodged all reason with his stubbornness and sardonic remarks.

"Will it even taste good with the food?" Will asked.

"I don't _know_. We'll just have to wait and see, _I guess_ ," he said, solidly putting an end to that debate. "Don't act like you're my mother."

A new song started to fill the room: Houses of the Holy, as Halt had decided on what he'd wanted for dinner and Will was still thinking.

"Ah," Halt mumbled, "Led Zeppelin."

"Is this them?" Will asked.

Halt gave him a look that told him to 'please leave'. He said, "No, of course not, why would you think so?"

But this time, Will wanted to aggravate Halt even further. "Because you told me so," he said.

Halt stared at Will with such an intense, solid look that Will was actually expecting him to growl under his breath… but it only lasted for two seconds and ended with a big, heavy sigh out his nose. He'd given up on trying to argue with this boy.

Everything so far had put them in the lightest of moods- it was almost unrecognizable against the tone of dark, starless grey that they'd seen so far. Halt didn't want that to change, but he did want Will to know something very important.

"I talked to my boss," Halt said, as he sipped his newly arrived coffee. Will knew exactly where this was going and he looked up from his menu. "He said he would try his best to… pull some strings."

Will gave him a smile that radiated tragic happiness into the coldest of hearts, like it always did.. "Good. I'm glad it's at least a possibility." He turned back to his menu. "But what'll happen afterwards?"

Halt regarded that question very seriously. "That may be the most useful question you've had so far…" he muttered. "I don't know. I hadn't thought about that yet."

Will shrugged. He'd finally decided on what to get and put his menu on top of Halt's. "I don't know, either," he told him. "I think it'll sort itself out. At least… I like to think so."

Halt looked away from where their eyes were meeting. Now he wished he hadn't said anything.

 _"Let me take you to the movies. Can I take you to the show?_

 _Let me be yours ever truly. Can I make your garden grow?"_

Will, on the other hand, was glad he did. He knew that, even though Halt's face didn't give him any hint of it, that he was feeling bad about dimming their smiles. About painting over that little spot of white that had stood out from its grey, starless background. But Will wasn't going to stand for that. The paint was still wet, and they could wipe it away if Will found just the right spot. "What's it like there? What are the people like?" Will asked.

Halt looked around, suspicious that people might hear them, but there seemed to be no one listening to Will but him. He turned back to him and answered, "I've been a lot of places. When I'm not doing a job, I'm at home, waiting for one." He paused. What else was there? "I had an apprentice… his name I won't say right now, but we go out to dinner sometimes and talk. My boss and I spend time together, occasionally."

Will sipped his water, closely listening to Halt's story like it was the most interesting thing in the world… With a little push, Halt launched into a story about Gilan's apprentice era, because he liked seeing the entertained glint in Will's eyes- and Will, conversely, liked seeing the nostalgic pleasure on Halt's face from talking about his friends, that Halt didn't even realize was there. Will could see the tenderness in his eyes when he talked.

Halt explained how Gilan wore a funny shirt during a serious mission, and got tons of compliments on it when they were _supposed_ to be blending into the crowd. Another highlight was when Halt and Crowley were forming the Ranger Corps (Crowley was his boss, but the two essentially put their heads together to revive the company), and they got mistaken for brothers by three people in one day, because of how they treated each other, even though they looked completely different. Halt had dark hair, and Crowley was a redhead. Halt expressed his confusion and dismay at this idea very clearly. Will laughed at every twist and turn, even though he wasn't supposed to. Halt weaved words so interestingly around each other and it made Will so happy watching it happen.

And Will heard the sarcasm, loud and clear, but in the end it didn't matter. Halt's sarcasm was just there to give off the feeling that he was uninterested, but Will knew that that was anything but true. What he radiated was just a perfume. It masked the real scent. Halt had even said it out loud before:

 _"Wh…" Will said… "Don't you have something else to do besides waste your time with me?"_

 _Halt surprised both of them with a laugh. He laughed, because of the absurdity of the idea. How… ridiculous that sounded to him. He laughed not too hard but he could feel tears coming to his eyes, because of the… that idea._

 _"No," Halt said. "In reality, Will, it's the other way around."_

Will smiled every time he remembered that, but as he thought about it more and more, he realized that knowing that he was worth somebody's time was actually small potatoes compared to Halt laughing, and that was the real reason he'd been thinking about it so obsessively. He hadn't heard anything like it since that morning.

Ugh, why wouldn't Halt laugh? Will imagined that what'd happened that morning was so rare, that Will was lucky to hear even _that_ … but he wouldn't settle. One wasn't good enough.

They didn't talk about Gilan and Crowley all night. Halt didn't want to spend this nice meal together talking about his past- or even talking the most. Talking too much was Will's job. So he took over, after a while; he brought up a good book he read the other day and let Halt tell him what was wrong/inaccurate/stupid about its beginning, middle, and end.

When their food came, they reluctantly redirected their attention away from each other and started eating. It was only a short period of time before they returned to the groundbreaking new feeling of no stress, and no worries. Never did they return to the possibility that Crowley wouldn't call back with good news. They weren't out of the woods yet… but they acted like they were. They acted and they ignored the dark, overcast cloud hanging over them.

"Is the food good?" Will asked, after their third or fourth bite.

Halt nodded. "Yes, it is. The coffee makes it so much better."

Will grimaced. "Alright, fine. I believe you."

And, breaking through the water barrier that separated expression and emotion, was a small smile that Halt suddenly didn't feel so scared to let out. Smiling was like pulling in a rope tethered to the person who it was directed towards.

Unfortunately, ruining his internal moment of melancholy was his sudden exploded into a coughing fit, which alarmed Will with its suddenness to the point where he dropped his fork in his food. It made a "clink" sound on the edge of his plate. Usually smiling wouldn't pose an issue when Halt was drinking, but this time, under pure coincidence and bad luck, it did.

 _"Said there ain't no use in crying. Cause it will only, only drive you mad._

 _Does it hurt to hear them lying? Was this the only world you had? Oh-oh."_

"Are you okay…?" Will asked, slowly but worried, with a pinch of bemusement.

"Y-Yeah," Halt said, in between coughs. He put a hand on his throat. He didn't want to be too loud, or it might alert the people around him. "I-I, I just swallowed wrong." And yet he still couldn't stop coughing.

Not for any less than half a minute. People began staring. It felt like that time Gilan got compliments on his shirt during a mission… they were supposed to be translucent, not bright yellow. "Are you going to die?" Will laughed.

"P-Probably!" Halt grunted. "This is why I don't smile, goddammit-!"

Will had never heard Halt curse before. It wasn't too off-putting; instead it made him burst into more laughter. Halt finally stopped coughing, but the redness on his cheeks didn't fade until later. The groundbreaking relief, and the warmth that blossomed inside Will's body didn't fade until early the next morning.

Ten o'clock: they paid and left. They hadn't taken a car there, and they didn't drive back. They walked- and this was a good thing, because, one, it was nice out. A little chill was just lingering under the surface, not enough to persuade Will to put on his coat again. And, two, if they hadn't walked, Will would've never spotted the small store on their left that was infested with chocolate like a forest was infested with trees.

He didn't say anything at first. Just a glance and the slightest pause was enough to set the closely observant Halt off.

"Want to go in there?" Halt asked.

"Well…" Will muttered. He shrugged, like a stubborn teenager when he didn't want to do something his mother was excited about. "Fine. Why not?"

When Halt opened the door for him and Will walked in, he took a deep breath, like he was trying to inhale all the food through his nose.

"Heaven…" he whispered.

 _I_ knew _it,_ Halt thought. He hadn't been fooled for a second. _Ohh I_ knew _it._

Will had to look at every box, every candy, in every window, before making even the slightest decision… "Ughh I don't want to get too much, but it's so hard to pick…!" Will whispered- although his "whisper" was more like an exclamation compressed into a lower tone.

"I can't help with that. I am your guide," Halt said, gruffly, "not your warden, so make good choices."

"You can get something too, you know," Will offered. Halt opened his mouth to reply but before he could get anywhere, Will rushed to add: "And don't tell me you don't like candy, because that's what everyone says."

"I _do_ like candy." He rested his hands in the pockets of his black jacket and walked over to Will's side. "But I get enough calories from drinking a lot of coffee, and I've no need for it."

Will stood up straight from where he was bending down and eyeing a cherry coated in milk chocolate, and faced Halt. "Alright," he said. "Suit yourself. But you're missing out."

"I'm not missing out. I'm just stronger. I can resist temptation."

The younger boy snorted, snubbing the idea for good.

Halt still insisted on buying them for Will… but Will didn't let him, because he'd already let Halt pay for dinner. Eventually Will won that argument (one in a thousand). After all, it was only seven dollars.

Will bought a number of things. Not too much, but enough to make somebody's mouth water. He promised himself and Halt that he'd wait until later to eat them… but both of them knew that wouldn't happen. He started eating as they walked home.

First he bit into a crunchy, milk chocolate bar swirled with caramel.

"What did your work say about your situation?" Halt asked.

The street lamps lit the way for them down the street. Everything else was coated in a void of darkness and melancholy. But, inside their own little bubble, it didn't feel so bad.

"I'm a pretty good employee, so they said they'd let me off the hook if I worked overtime tomorrow." Will sighed. "In truth, though," he continued, "I've been looking for something else to do. With my salary, I'm not going to keep a house for long." He paused. "I used to not have to have a big salary."

Halt knew where that was going. He didn't want to press on into the past. "What kind of job do you think would suit you?"

"I don't know, yet," Will said. "I'm not looking for anything special. Like you said before… some jobs are made to make you money. You need some other hobby on the side to keep you happy."

"And I stand by that."

"And I always agreed with you."

They passed someone on their right. A shady looking figure… he leaned against the building wall, giving off smoke like a bonfire. His hood was up, and he was eyeing them both, but any fear that shivered through Will's body was short lived. Halt was pulling him closer to his side every time somebody's eyes glazed over him.

The sky looked about as lively as it had at three o'clock the morning before. Hollow, like it didn't exist. It was going to shave everything around their little bubble, like pulling back a veil, any moment now… what was under was a complete paradox.

"Any stars?" Halt asked.

"No," he said. "Still a hole."

He bit into a cherry coated with milk chocolate and found, inside, an idea, like finding a hidden treasure inside an Easter egg. If the sky did decide to pull back that veil, Will wouldn't be upset… but he wouldn't be satisfied, either.

So those two moments in the past of absolute acceptance and fulfillment were gone, and they were replaced with something else. Would there even be a third moment where he would be completely okay if he died? He tried to imagine if he died, right then, right next to Halt, right under the starless, hollow sky.. But a drop of melancholy rippled inside him. That wasn't right. That wasn't _it_. There was so much more that had to happen first… That happy, warmly colored feeling he'd enjoyed before was gone now. Where'd it go? Had the sky taken that, too? He couldn't leave now… he wanted it louder, fresher, definite, _infinite_. This night could repeat over and over and he'd love it.

And Will was right about before. About the alcohol. It'd made him forget- it'd made him happy, but seeing this weird guy, even though he was still very new to Will's life, give just the slightest smile, or show the slightest bit of true happiness was better than any alcohol or drug he could've ever tried. How could he put that into words...? How could he verbally express how Halt had somehow made him feel...

Not whole. Not yet. If he thought about it, he could still feel the wound in his heart, that wouldn't heal with just one night.

But this was the first time he felt like he was ready to try.

"Thanks for dinner," was not even the tip of the iceberg, but it's all he could muster when Halt dropped him off at his doorstep.

Halt gave him a simple, blunt nod, and told him in the most unrevealing way, that he'd had a good time too. A very good time.

Happiness. Halt looked up the word as he walked back home…

"Happiness: the state of being happy."

 _Well,_ Halt snapped, switching his phone off and slamming it in his pocket. _Thank you, Google, that was awfully helpful of you._ He was looking for something _else._ Nothing simple like a search engine could understand such a theoretical feeling, like what he'd felt before. That happy, warmly colored feeling he'd enjoyed before. Where'd it go? He wanted it louder, fresher, definite, _infinite_. He wanted to repeat this night over and over again.

Happiness… was coming home, checking your phone, and finding one new message from the man you'd placed your happiness's life in. Crowley had called him back…


	8. Chapter 8: Calm

_"I took your request to some higher-ranking officials, in charge of operations like this, and after discussing it to great lengths we agreed… that the package sent to your target, whatever it was, should have definitely arrived at his house by now. If you search his house one more time- do this_ _very_ _thoroughly; look in every drawer, every crack, you have to miss_ _nothing_ _… and you still don't find any information… then you may not kill him."_

The two five-hundred pound weights that had been sitting on either of Halt's shoulders floated slowly off. He couldn't resist, this time, the broad smile that was taking over his face. His body began to shake like it was freezing around him.

 _"If you find something, Halt, you know what you have to do… but if you're really so sure that this man is innocent, then okay. If he has nothing to hide, he has nothing to deserve. I trust you. Don't let me down."_ And the call ended there.

If someone had walked in, without any context or idea of what Halt was like, he would've thought he was crying. But he wasn't crying. The sounds that came from his mouth sounded like sobs, but he was laughing.

Will's reaction to Halt was priceless. He opened the door, and his face lit up. "Hey," he greeted. "Haven't seen you in a while."

A twitch in Halt's frown was his only acknowledgement of the joke. "Hello," he said. "I'll get right to it- I came back because I got a call from my boss…"

Will understood immediately, and it was evident on his face just how dangerous that conversation was…

Will let Halt come inside his house to explain, studying his face beforehand to find any hints of what the decision was. By the attitude he had, it could go either way. His poker face was made of titanium. But, still, somehow, Will got the idea that it hadn't gone too badly with his boss. He smelled the atmosphere and didn't find any tension, or pending dread. Halt's stare wasn't dismal. He still looked at him like there was nothing else around to look at.

"He told me," Halt began, "that if I searched your house one more time, thoroughly, and still found nothing, then I could let you live." He paused. "I'll only do so with your permission, of course."

Halt realized he didn't expect Will to be super happy about this. Even though it was going to save his life, it was still an invasion of his privacy. Frankly, Halt didn't want to do it, but beggars can't be choosers.

Halt opened his mouth again, but he wasn't faster than Will when he said: "Don't be sorry. You don't make the rules." He stepped aside. "You have my permission. Do what you want."

Well that was relieving. Halt was still doubtful, and worried that Will was going to be uncomfortable with someone going through his stuff… even if he didn't have anything to hide. It didn't matter if he was keeping classified information or not. Just the idea of someone shamelessly looking through your private property would put Halt on his toes too.

So Halt was very cautious when he headed towards the back hallway, where Will's room was. He looked back at him, making sure, even though he knew he _had_ to do this. It would all pay off… he promised himself.

Halt had thought about the aftermath of finding nothing while he was driving up to Will's house. For the most part, Will's future was set. He'd keep on living, and that was amazing. But Halt had options. Would he just go back to Crowley and the Corps and leave Will to do whatever he wanted for the rest of his life? Or would they keep in contact and stay friends? Or maybe Halt didn't have to go back at all.

And yet, every time it surfaced he pushed those thoughts away, because he was getting ahead of himself. Now, right now, he had to do what Crowley had asked him to do, without slacking off. If he didn't search like he was suspicious of Will, then it would feel like he was cheating Crowley. He could never do that. They'd been through too much together.

Will sat on his couch, keeping himself as busy as he could. He flipped through all the TV channels, trying to find something to keep his thoughts from…

He couldn't think of a time when he had been forced to sit with this much anxiety. He was restless. His heart jumped around like a glitch in a computer game. He fidgeted and felt stupid as he was doing it, but when he wasn't moving the feeling rose and rose into a wildfire. He was trapped inside a soundproof box, where all the walls were one-sided mirrors, letting him see out but permitting anyone from looking in… and the box was getting hotter and hotter…

Will's desk was clear, and so was the crack behind the desk. Nothing suspicious in the drawers- just stray pencils and paper clips and the like. The real project was sorting through all the papers in the filing cabinet. Everything was still very messy, on the inside, like it'd been ever since Halt searched his house the first time. When would he have time to clean in the short span of… was it two days?

There were letters, a highschool diploma… a marriage certificate untouched…

But nothing to do with the Corps.

Halt looked at the time on his phone. It was 10:45, and he'd been searching for half an hour already. To make things simpler, he made a list of places to check in his mind:

\- In Will's dresser, especially the sock drawer (he'd been surprised in the past at how many things people keep in their sock drawer)

\- Under the mattress/around the bed

\- In the bookshelf

\- In the closet

And that was just his room.

But once his room was clean, then the chances of finding any nonexistent information anywhere else were very slim, and that would lift some anxiety off Halt's chest.

The sock drawer was clean. It was very awkward for Halt, going through his clothes like this. He tried not to pay much attention to anything in there and inside paid more attention to what wasn't there.

The closet was a huge project, but he got that done right away. He always preferred doing the difficult things first.

…

No, he couldn't go back after this.

Crowley probably wouldn't even let him back. Halt was forty-six, but he had served enough in the Corps. He had more than enough money to live comfortably for the rest of his life.

 _No,_ he told himself, reaching the back of the closet. Even with the light, he could barely see in the shadow he cast on the ground. _Don't get ahead of yourself. Once this is over, I'll have plenty of time to think about what's next… We're not out of the woods yet. Don't get too optimistic._

That was really difficult. The first time Halt was actually looking forward to something, and he _couldn't_ think about it? Every time he imagined the future the way it was looking right now, a smile grew inside of him.

"Room service," came a voice.

Halt peeked out of the small closet, and saw Will in the doorway. He was offering a cup of something, probably water, to him.

The assassin couldn't help the smallest of a smile to come to his face, even through the layers of disquietude. He accepted the glass of water graciously. He wasn't thirsty, but it was the unnecessary gesture of it and the fact that it came from Will's inexhaustible compassion that made him happy to take it.

When he took a drink, he found that it wasn't water… "It's coffee…" Halt whispered. "Oh, dear, lord," he muttered into the cup, "I could just run away with you right _now_."

A smile twitched up the corners of Will's lips. "Find anything yet?" he asked.

"No. The rest of the rooms won't take as long as this, I promise." Halt set the glass of water on the desk. "And I haven't been looking at anything personal of yours." Will nodded. He believed his word.

"But," Halt continued, "I do have to look at some files on your computer, I'm sorry to say. Not right now- eventually. I want you to be in the room while it's happening."

"Thanks," Will said under his breath.

Will was being very quiet, Halt noticed. It'd only been two days, but he had a clear and solid grasp of who he was. Not a quiet person. He couldn't imagine how stressful this must be for Will… Halt wished he could apologize more, but he knew his apologies would just be pebbles thrown against a titanium door.

"Thank you for the drink," Halt said.

"No problem," Will replied. There was a ghost of a smile haunting his face that Halt was glad to see. "I'll let you get back to it." He gave him an acknowledging, goodbye nod, and left the doorway. And Halt was left to carry out his guilty, last orders. No. He was _not_ going back after this. Just seeing Will- not even because of how unfortunate he was acting right now, but just _seeing_ him finalized his decision faster than logic ever could. Crowley and Gilan would understand. The thought of leaving them saddened Halt to no end, but they wouldn't loose contact. No… they'd been through too much.

Before returning to the project of looking through his closet, Halt decided to just check the bed and get it over with during this small "break".

With one hand, he grabbed hold of the mattress and lifted it up. Under it, of course, there was nothing.

Nothing...

Except for that… one thing…

No matter how long he stared at it, it was still there...

But Will had a job. He also had a private life. Lots of people have papers and things that they'd rather not have people looking at. Halt didn't want to pick it up, because whatever it was, it wasn't business, but he needed to make sure. For Crowley. For the Corps.

As soon as he opened the folder, a loose-leaf letter threatened to fall out.

 _Son,_

 _I know we haven't talked to each other in years. I am so sorry, but that can't cover it. I can't begin to express how much I've missed you… I hope Alyss kept you happy for me. I'm proud of you, and that has never changed. That's why… you're the only person I trust with this information._

 _There might be someone coming out to hurt you. Please get protection. You can't be too wary. The information that's attached to this letter is top secret. They're classified documents I stole from The Ranger Corps, a secret government agency that specializes in hiring assassins. They kill a lot of people under suspicion… even when it's perfectly reasonable for them to be innocent. Not all of it is the Corps' fault, but the people working for them are the people who have done the killing. They're to blame, too. Not only that, but the English government itself does some shady, unspeakable things, and even though every large government in the world does this, it doesn't make it right. I'm not going to let this go on any longer. I posted the results online myself, but they've been taken down, so I'm sending you the backup, paper copies because I know you'll do the right thing…_

 _I trust and love you, Will. My son. I didn't want to abandon you for all those years… it hurt every day knowing that maybe you thought I forgot you, but_

The words on the paper were getting blurry… Halt couldn't read any more, and no longer could he stand. He was leaning on the bed now… the letter was beside him.

When he looked through the papers he found addresses, full identities, personal information… Just went he thought his stomach couldn't get any weaker, his muscles contracted and he almost threw up. Halt had to put a hand over his mouth to prevent anything from happening.

 _Crowley. Gilan._ The orders…

 _"If you search his house one more time- do this_ _very_ _thoroughly; look in every drawer, every crack, you have to miss_ _nothing_ _… and you still don't find any information… then you may not kill him. If you find something, Halt, you know what you have to do…"_

Halt walked out of Will's room, a ghost. His face was pale, like a ghost, and he was practically dead, like a ghost. And Will knew he was there, standing behind the couch, where he couldn't see. He knew Halt knew everything, now, and that his father's folders were inside his jacket.

The pocket knife was still inside Halt's pocket. It hadn't moved since that last time he'd felt it and thought about what he needed to do. He'd comforted himself with the thought that maybe it wasn't inevitable…

His hand wrapped around it.

"Did the search go okay?" Will asked, not feigning innocence. His eyes didn't move from the TV.

Halt didn't answer. "Thank you for the coffee," he whispered.

"I'm glad you liked it." Will paused, before going on: "I was going to make water at first, but then at the last minute I remembered how you ordered coffee at dinner… And I thought, well, if he had coffee with dinner, then I doubt he'll ever refuse it, even if it _is_ eleven o'clock."

Halt drew closer to the couch. The volume on the TV was down way too long for them to hear; it was obvious that Will wasn't watching it. It was just an excuse for Will to not look at Halt, and to distract him from the idea of trying to run. If he ran, his fate was sealed. If he stayed completely still… then the feeling of pending dread still didn't leave. Halt was right behind him, the small knife unsheathed and glimmering in his hand. Will could feel it next to him like it was already pressing up against his neck, which he knew it would be, in just a moment…

"I think I'll see you tomorrow," Halt whispered.

A small, black pocket knife dropped into Will's lap. The blade was out, staring him in the eye, telling him what it could do to him.

The door opened, and closed. Halt was out of there faster than a bullet to Will's head.


	9. Chapter 9: Storm

**A/N: I'm laughing so hard... I'm going to make it official, you guys, this is** ** _not_** **a slash fic , okay? (Even though every bone in my body is begging me to make it one. If you want to think of them like that I won't stop you. It's supposed to be open to interpretation.)**

 **Last chapter! This is it! You guys have been absolutely wonderful and I love you- I hope you enjoy the end as much as you did the beginning.**

Halt didn't have any hope of getting a wink of sleep that night. After all, how could he? With the caffeine in his system, and the tornado of thoughts twisting through his mind… it wasn't an option.

He was trapped in his own body, with a heart that wouldn't stop pounding, in a twilight zone where even if he wasn't thinking about what he had to do, he felt every torturous moment. Halt was waiting for something, but what? Death?

 _Will. Crowley. Gilan. The Corps._ He couldn't stop thinking about them, no matter how hard he tried. As long as he was awake, they'd be running through his mind.

If anything got out… everybody would have to go into hiding. Crowley and Gilan, lifelong friends, would be fired, hunted, and put into grave danger now that everybody knew exactly who they were. Halt and Crowley's work reviving the Corps would be destroyed. And, worst case scenario but an entirely possible one… the government may think it better to put them to death, rather than risk another country reaching them and torturing them for any more information. And if they didn't, they _could_ get captured by another country (nevermind, _that_ was the worst case scenario).

But he had the documents, didn't he? Will didn't have them anymore, so he couldn't leak any information. Right? Yes. So his friends were safe. So what did he have to worry about?

It was an indescribable feeling. Something was lurking in his mind, sending his heart into hysteria and yet forbidding him and the outside world from any movement whatsoever. For hours he laid on his bed, in a frantic coma that he put himself in.

How long _had_ Halt been lying there? The question wasn't if it had been hours, but how many hours. He had a clock nearby but his eyes couldn't blink, let alone move.

He didn't realize he hadn't heard anything in so long until he did hear something: a ringing, coming from the drawer of his nightstand.

Halt came out of his chrysalis just enough to reach over the side of the bed, open the drawer, and recover his cellphone. His _second_ cellphone, that was.

Just as it was about to go to voicemail, Halt answered the call and held the speaker up to his ear. "Hello?" he asked, as faint as a ghost.

"HALT!"

Crowley.

"DIDN'T I TELL YOU TO SEARCH EVERYWHERE FOR THOSE PAPERS?! AND DID YOU?! OR MAYBE YOU DID FIND THEM, BUT YOU DISREGARDED EVERYTHING _ELSE_ I SAID!"

"Wh… Crowley…"

"HE LEAKED THEM, HALT. EVERYTHING. ONLINE FOR THE WHOLE GODDAMN WORLD TO SEE. AND THEY'RE DOWN, BUT WE DIDN'T GET LUCKY THIS TIME LIKE WE DID WITH HIS FATHER. ENOUGH PEOPLE SAW THEM TO CAUSE A PROBLEM… YOU KNOW HOW PARANOID WE ARE. IT WON'T BE GOING ON THE FRONT PAGE OF THE NEWSPAPER BUT THERE WERE ADDRESSES. IDENTITIES. CLASSIFIED JOBS AND SECRETS. FREE TO THE PUBLIC. GODDAMMIT HALT!"

Crowley hardly ever cursed, even when he was angry, but he wasn't just angry. He wasn't even furious. He was terrified.

When he calmed down a little, Halt could hear the fear breaking into his voice. "H-Halt…" he hissed, "what _exactly_ happened?"

"I…" Halt could barely think, between being in a coma-like state for the past (he saw now, looking at the clock) three hours, and even more so for being yelled at by someone who never, ever yelled at him. Finally, he was able to muster a short version of the events of that night: "I searched his house, and I found the documents… but I took them, and I figured that since I had them, he wasn't a threat anymore."

"So you have them?"

"Yes." Halt put a hand on the drawer where the phone used to be, also where he had hidden the papers in question.

There was a short pause on the other end of the line. "Did you… ever consider that maybe he'd copied them, or _memorized_ some of the information?"

No. No, he hadn't. Of _course_ he hadn't.

"Halt," Crowley said, "I told you before that I don't want to make you kill Mr. Treaty, if you really feel so deeply for him. But I also told you that if he had nothing to hide, he had nothing to deserve. Well…"

The numbness from Halt's body was fading, but it was replaced, as quickly as it was leaving, with excruciating pain. "He's our enemy now," Crowley said. "I'm really sorry- I truly am, but I have to put the Corps first. I'm going into hiding, for now, along with most of the people here at the Corps, Gilan included. It's too dangerous for us here, and not just from the public. From the people who hired us. Halt, these are my final orders, and I'm not going to give them again."

"Kill. Will. Treaty."

Never had Halt wished for traffic more than he did then. But it was two in the morning. There was nothing in his way but himself.

He'd been so ecstatic. He was going to leave the Corps… let every day be like the night before, when he and Will had dinner together. It was such a normal thing to do, but so perfect he could relive it for years. He didn't want anything eccentric. He just wanted a life like everyone else, doing normal people things… but doing them with Will.

Now, wanting anything like that felt like he was reaching for the moon.

On the radio, guitars and drums crashed loudly together tidal waves. Then the words followed, whispered:

 _"It's party night tonight, just like every night;_

 _And once again, you've death defied."_

Lovely Bones. By Dead and Divine.

Halt wanted to turn the radio off, but silence would be even worse.

He thought the drive was farther than this. It'd been a minute and a half since he left, and he was already turning the corner onto Will's street. What if he just… turned right… there was a nice brick wall there, waiting for him. If somebody was going to die tonight, maybe it didn't have to be Will.

But if he was going to die tonight, then Crowley, Gilan and the rest of the Corps would surely follow, right? They were _already_ in danger, and if he didn't do something about the source of that danger, it would just get worse. What's to stop Will from putting more information out? Any more and it would definitely make it to the front page of the newspaper. Until that happened, all of those previous scenarios were just nightmares. _Until_ it happened…

But this struggle wasn't hopeless yet. Halt was way too stubborn for that.

 _"Let's shoot some drugs and fall in love,_

 _'Cause I feel like getting tangled up in your bones._

 _Someone gave you up; you were prosthetic in love,_

 _But I will keep you-"_

Halt turned off the volume before that sentence could end. It didn't matter. He had arrived at his destination anyway.

Halt didn't expect Will to answer, but he still knocked anyway. No response.

"Will!" he called. He paused, to take a deep breath and calm himself down before he sounded angry. "Will, I know you know why I'm here. But I'm not going to hurt you. I just want to talk…"

Still nothing. The lights inside the house were on, so Will was awake, and he could hear who was at his door. He just needed a little more reason to trust him. They could figure this out, if they wanted it badly enough.

"I had the opportunity to kill you when I found the documents," Halt reasoned, "but I didn't. Because I can't. Just let me in, or they may send someone who _won't_ hesitate."

It took ten seconds for something to happen. Halt knew, with his intuition, that if he waited, Will would open the door. He waited until he started to second guess himself- but he was right the first time. The door opened, to reveal Will, looking afraid and slightly dense.

"I know we're on the same page now," Will said, as he let Halt walk in. "But before you do anything, please let me explain."

"I told you, Will. I'm not _going_ to do anything." Halt stood near the back of the couch, with his hands in the pockets of a black, knee-length trench coat. Dressed in all black like he was, anyone would look intimidating, but somehow he managed to pull that off without being absolutely "scary". "Explain," he told him.

Will didn't know how he should begin. There was so much he wanted to tell him… how could he get Halt to understand what was happening to him in _words_? Moreover, would any set of words be enough?

He just started at the beginning: "I found those papers in my mailbox, after I walked home from spending the night at your room. I read the note and I… finally understood, with everything that you said, that everything your boss said was right. I… I cried, actually, when I realized that. And I was very conflicted. Should I finish what my father started? Should I give them to you and risk dying?"

Will sighed. Now the words were coming to him fine. "Then, after doing some more thinking… I realized that if I released the information, it wasn't carrying out my father's dreams, because I was obligated to, because he was my father. It was making something of his death, because someone like him can't die for something that doesn't happen." He clenched his fists by his sides, balling together the fabric of his blue jeans. "I thought, those three years that we were apart, that I forced myself to forget about how much I loved him, that we both suffered in silence… that wasn't all for nothing. Sometimes you do everything you can, and you still fail, but this wasn't going to be like that- I'm not going to settle for that!" he exclaimed. "His death won't be in vain! Not like Alyss! Not again!"

Will couldn't support himself anymore. He collapsed onto his knees, on the carpet, tears breaking down his face. Halt wanted to kneel down; put his arms around him, but it felt so helpless now.

"I know you said before that sometimes horrible things happen, and it doesn't mean anything…" He looked up at Halt. Into his eyes. Everywhere all at once. "Maybe that's because we're not trying hard enough to make something of it."

"Well not like this," Halt snapped. "Not by hurting other people! Crowley and Gilan," Halt couldn't help saying their names, because this wasn't the time for caution, "are in grave danger now, because if they go out to the public, someone will catch them, and if they go to the government, they may put them to death. They are in danger of being _killed_ , and…" But those last words, he held back. 'And it's all your fault.' He couldn't say that.

Will was starting to understand, now. He stood up, walked around to the couch, and let himself fall into the cushion. "How much damage did I do?" he whispered.

"Enough to get the news out there." Halt leaned on the end. Now the air was starting to relax, like it should. This was good. "Crowley said it wouldn't make the front page of the newspaper, but it's enough to scare the Corps into hiding. They won't be out for a long time."

"I'm sorry."

"Are you?"

"I'm sorry. Not regretful."

There was a pause. A short one, but one that felt a lot longer than it lasted. Time and perception were just human illusions, after all.

"Want some coffee?" Will asked.

Halt almost smiled, because that was kind of funny. Will got the idea, just like him, that this conversation wasn't going to end soon. For the first time in a while he _wanted_ to smile, so badly, but he couldn't remember how to feel it. "Always," he said.

Halt waited by his side, while Will made them both some coffee. He'd offered to help, but not genuinely, because Will's coffee tasted a lot better than when Halt made it for himself.

Will wasn't expecting any conversation that minute, but he got it, whether he wanted it or not.

"If I don't kill you," said Halt, "what are you honestly going to do?"

Honestly, hm? _Does he really want honesty,_ Will wondered, _or does he want the answer_ he's _thinking of?_

"Then I'm going to put those secrets on every website on the Internet until every person on Earth knows what my father sacrificed for them." Will opened the jar of coffee beans. He ignored Halt's stare like there was no one standing next to him.

Halt's eyes turned down after he decided Will wasn't going to see him. "Why?" he asked. "You've done what he wanted."

"But you said it yourself- it _almost_ had a big impact," Will said. "That's not good enough. Even if I was exaggerating just now, it's not nearly well-known enough to make a difference. More people know, now, so they'll be watching for more information to come out, right? Then I'll give them more."

Halt sighed. His hands clenched the edges of the counter that were supporting him. "I still don't understand," he muttered.

"Think of it like this… You and Crowley are reviving the Corps together. You've almost made it official, but suddenly, Crowley dies. It's not his time. He's been taken decades before he should've. Do you give up making the Corps again, just because he's gone, or do you feel even more determined than when he was alive?" Will explained. "What if you got everyone back together, but the government didn't acknowledge your existence? Would you stop there?"

A part of Halt was still confused as to why Will felt like he did, and wanted to do this, but that part was forcing it now. When Will put it like _that_ , he completely understood, and he _hated_ that.

Halt would be furious if Will's scenario had happened. Thirsty for revenge. Broken-hearted. Uncompromising… even if it put other people in danger. After all, he didn't know those people. Maybe if Will knew Crowley and Gilan, he'd think twice, but as far as he knew they were all the same.

"Crowley and Gilan are good people," Halt said. "Don't hurt them."

"I don't know that," Will replied. Just like Halt had expected. "But," he continued, "out of courtesy to you, I'll leave their contacts out of my second posting. How about that?" He turned to him; asked, "Then can I do it?"

Halt had come up with the idea himself, even before Will had suggested it. He didn't think Will would let that happen; evidently he would. So Halt thought he'd be okay with it… but he wasn't. Surprisingly, Halt found himself saying, "No, that's not enough. The information's already been posted once, and even if they aren't known by the public to be part of the Corps, the government knows. They'll seek them out anyway. Not only that, but…" he took a breath; it was painful every time he found a new reason to disagree, "the entirety of the Ranger Corps is what people are going to be looking at. Crowley is the head of it, and Gilan is a high-ranking man. There's no way to take them out of the spotlight."

The coffee machine was running now. Somewhere in the middle of Halt's speech, Will had looked away from him and at it. "Okay," he whispered. "I guess I understand."

Halt got his coffee; Will had insisted that he didn't need a drink. That triggered a bad thought inside Halt. Could he really trust anything Will made for him, now, he wondered?

…Well of course. He'd been watching him the whole time, and Will would _never_ go behind his back to do something like slip a drug in his drink.

Halt took a sip of the coffee. It was delicious, like he knew it would be, aside from the bitter aftertaste he couldn't get rid of. It wasn't from the drink, though.

Only then did he realize that Will was waiting for some feedback. "It's good," Halt said.

"Good, good."

Silence passed, as quickly as time did when they were talking. Time was being weird that night (or, morning, really). It was either torturously slow, or moving way too quickly.

Halt found something that had to be said, before they went any farther.

"My friends _will_ be safe," Halt stated. He never, ever said things like this, out loud or otherwise, but he felt himself holding nothing back anymore. The windows looking out, after being latched for so long, were finally letting in the rain. "I love them. I'm going to protect them, at all costs."

"I know… That's why I'm not going to mention them when I put that information out again."

"No. You're not going to put _any_ information out." Halt narrowed his eyes. "I really shouldn't be trying to compromise," he said. "I've been given orders to kill you, don't you understand?"

"I understand completely," said Will.

"I wouldn't dare lay a finger on you. If you promise not to leak anything then…" Halt looked away, and set the coffee on the counter. Reluctantly, he went on, "Then I wouldn't dare return to the Corps. I didn't want to, anyway."

Will knew where this was going. "I'll quit my job," he said.

"We can go away… start over. Get a clean slate."

Both of them were both starting to smile at the mere thought of it. They hadn't even gotten into the specifics, and already, tons of possibilities were flashing before their eyes. They didn't want much. Just a normal, boring, uneventful life… but with each other. "I would _love_ that," said Will.

"It'll happen…" Halt continued, looking him in the eyes now, "if you promise not to say anything to anyone about the information your father gave you."

Will's eyes darkened, and his rare, genuine wildfire of a smile dissipated into thin air. "Just let me tell them," he pleaded. "Just once."

Halt was firm in his response: "I can't compromise on this, Will."

"Well I can't either," Will replied.

The assassin sighed a sigh… that was hardly a sigh at all. Just a tiny jar of breath, releasing from his mouth like a puff of cigarette smoke. "I have direct orders to kill you," he whispered. No words had ever scared him so much in his life. Well, except for the ones coming out of Will-

"Then fucking do it already."

Halt's heart leaped into the air. Never had he heard Will curse before. God, everyone was cursing at him today, weren't they? Will, Crowley… But, _God_ , that wasn't nearly the most terrifying thing about that sentence.

Will, of course, noticed Halt's reaction. He knew it'd be something like that. Nevertheless, he didn't mean his answer any less than when he had said it, and there was just no other way to say it. When Will looked into Halt's eyes, he stared with steel. There were a lot of things about life, and himself that he was confused about. There were a lot of things he had to learn, and a lot of years to live… but this was certain, even if Will had to die to make it happen.

"Do it," Will said, standing up straight. "I'd rather die by your hand than die of old age, having done nothing. I can't live without at least doing _everything_ in my power."

"I can't live without _you_."

"You don't have to," Will said. "Just-"

"Just do what? Give up on them? Leave everyone to die?" Halt asked.

Will looked away, sheepishly knowing that Halt had a point. He didn't want Halt to kill him, but he also didn't want him to let him live… He didn't want to hurt Halt's friends, but not enough to give up.

He didn't want to die, but he understood if he did. Why couldn't he just pick a side?

If he died, both his, his father's, and Alyss's lives would be wasted; just two more bodies laid on the pile of unimportant souls that grew higher with every day. People all around the world died, and nobody knew who they were or what they died for. It would be just the same for them, if Will didn't do anything. That wasn't fair. Alyss's death wasn't _unimportant_. His father couldn't die for something that _failed_.

Will knew Halt wouldn't kill him. If he felt for Will the same, mindless affection that Will felt for Halt, Will knew for certain he wouldn't kill him. Right? Then again, looking at how much he loved his friends…

Will began to walk away, to the couch. His legs and his head were getting tired, and he needed to look away.

But, when his back was turned, he felt someone brush up behind him and put a cold coin to his head. He froze… He didn't fight back. Halt was gripping tightly the fabric of his shirt, so Will couldn't run anywhere. He waited, prepared for that booming sound of a bullet going through his head… But he found that no matter how many seconds passed, Halt wouldn't pull the trigger.

He was pushed off of Halt's chest, spun around to face him. He still had a black pistol in his hand, ready whenever he may need it.

Halt looked like he had something to say, and yet no words came out of his mouth. It just stayed, trembling open, waiting for something. For what? For the gun to go off, accidentally? Would that be their saving grace?

Will continued, then, his walk to the couch. And Halt joined him on his left side moments later, with his coffee in one hand and a fatal weapon in the other. Their efforts proved, once again, to be hopeless.

"Is there any scenario where everything can work out for the better?" he asked them both. "I can't put the Corps in danger. I need to protect them, but I can't do that without killing you. You need to honor and avenge your father, but you can't do that without making me kill you. Is there a scenario where both of us can end up together in the end?"

Will's smile in those next few moments wasn't a happy one. It was the grim smile of a dead-man. "I don't know," he said.

Will laid his head on Halt's shoulder, and Halt snapped out of it. The future wasn't fixed yet. Sure, Halt had already revisited this idea a million times, but he knew in his heart that if they wanted it this much, then it was impossible that either of them would give up. He couldn't give this up; the familiarity of Will's head on his shoulder, even though it was the first time he'd ever felt it. It was the most natural and ground-shaking feeling, and it was barely a touch. He didn't want to move, ever, unless they were getting closer.

"What now, then?" Halt asked.

Will picked up the TV remote on the couch arm next to him, and flipped on the black box. "We watch TV, of course," said Will. He silently looked through the channels with Halt, trying to find something decent to watch until time overtook them, and there was no more time to buy. One of them had to give something up.

Will knew that Halt wasn't watching the movie (what movie was this, again?), but he didn't care. He was only half watching it, too. Everything was in Halt's hands now, and there was nothing he could do until his friend came to a decision.

 _Don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me,_ one half of him prayed.

 _I understand,_ said the other half. _Do what you have to do, but I'm not going to change my mind._

Halt had to look at all the angles. If Will didn't post anything about the Corps, and only the top government, then would that be okay?

No, people already knew about them from the first round. It was too late not to hurt anyone he knew.

"Promise," Halt whispered. "Promise you won't say anything to anyone about that information."

"All I can promise is that I'm sorry," said Will.

His determination was a train without brakes. No matter how painful this was for him, whenever he checked in with that train, it was still going. Still moving like a bullet, screaming _"if I don't do anything, that's when my father will be dead"_. God, he wished it'd stop. But he couldn't deny that fire inside of him that wouldn't burn out.

"What movie is this?" Will asked.

"I have no idea." Will started to laugh, despite himself. As he quieted down, he heard to his delight that Halt was joining him, too.

He checked. It was:

"Good Will Hunting," he told him.

Halt sneered. "The universe is making puns now," he muttered. "We're all going to hell for that one."

Will smiled, and leaned farther into him. He'd seen this movie before, so it didn't matter if he closed his eyes.

 _Don't kill me, don't kill me, don't kill me,_ one half of him prayed.

 _I understand,_ said the other half. _Do what you have to do, but I'm not going to change my mind._

 _Whatever you do,_ they said, in unison this time, _just don't get up. Please don't ever leave._

A bolt of lightning shattered the sky in half, and sent thunder booming through the crack… Halt looked down at the boy with his head on his shoulder, to make sure it hadn't woken him up. Will was so deep in sleep, the sound hadn't disturbed him one bit.

Halt looked at his watch. It was… shit. 5:01 AM.

Three hours had passed since Halt got to Will's house, but, again, time and perception were not parallel to each other. Not even close. Halt's judgement ceased to exist the moment Will laid his head on his shoulder.

Another sound of thunder sounded from outside, as loud as if it was inside the room with them. The lightning and thunder were crashing and working together to shake the hollow sky to pieces, like the notes in the beginning of the song earlier.

"Mm…" Will muttered, "it's raining, isn't it?"

"Yes, and very loudly."

"Yeah… What time is it?" he asked.

Halt answered, "Five o'clock."

Will's eyebrows rose, though his eyes were still shut. "Wow," he muttered. "It's been a while…"

Silence. Their old enemy. Lots of things could happen inside silence; it was a dangerous thing to hold; a thin line to walk…

"Am I dead?" Will whispered.

Halt shook his head, calmly responding, "No. It certainly feels that way, but I know you're not dead. If you're dead, then we must both be."

The sound of thunder and rain beat on the roof, like it could break through at any moment.

"Do you promise?" Halt asked.

He opened his eyes to slits. He was afraid of any light leaking in and blinding him, but the only light that he saw was that from the TV, so it didn't hurt much. It was five o'clock. The sun would be coming up in two hours, give or take. Then again, with the state of the sky outside, they probably wouldn't be seeing any sun for some time. "I told you, Halt, and my answer is the same," said Will. "I can't promise anything but that I'm sorry."

It's not like they weren't trying to think of other options. It's just that everything they could do required them to give up something they couldn't give up. They always came back to where they started.

…Thinking was so dangerous nowadays. If you thought too hard, then you might come up with a good answer.

Like, if Will killed Halt, then all his problems would be solved.

But he shoved the thought out of his head as soon as it came. Yes, he could do what he wanted for his father, and yes, he wouldn't have to worry about dying, but Halt would be _dead_ , so it was immediately not an option.

He didn't notice until that moment, when he looked over at him, that the pistol was still out, resting on Halt's thigh. _Put it away,_ Will willed him, silently. _Let me know it's never going to be a solution for you, either._

"I think the coffee is starting to wear off," Halt muttered, taking a yawn and leaning his head back on the couch. "We can both go back to sleep." And those were his last words, before Will heard his quiet snoring minutes later. It wasn't disruptive, but the exact opposite. A lullaby, asking to sing him to sleep.

So, instead of putting the gun away and helping Will shove all those thoughts out of his head for good, Halt just gave him a better opportunity to take that gun, point it to his head and turn the tables.

Will came to a decision.

The only action he could take was accomplishing the only thing he had straight in his head:

He _had_ to make his father's death matter.

In his room was his laptop, with all the information he'd copied (which was most of the information he'd gotten), and once he posted that, it was over and done with. Halt surely wouldn't kill him if it wouldn't accomplish anything, right? And if he left all the contacts of the employees working in the Corps, then maybe that would earn him something.

Halt's job was already pretty much quit. Will could leave his. They'd disappear, just like they'd talked about, into the hollow, broken sky, instead of just wondering about it like they had for the past few days.

He rose to his feet, as the thunder echoed outside the walls of the house and shook the world to pieces again. With another glance at Halt, and how perfect he looked when he slept, he was sure that man was asleep.

Except, Halt would never snore. He was an assassin, of course, and he had to sleep like he was dead if he ever needed it.

"Going somewhere?" came a low voice.

Will froze before he could even get to his feet.

"Stay," Halt said, almost ordered. He lifted his head up, and stared him darkly in the eyes.

Will slowly sat back down, into Halt's open arms.

"You were going to go post the information, weren't you?" Halt asked. Will nodded in response. "I thought so… but I can't let you do that."

"You can't keep me here forever," Will told him.

"I can try, just until time runs out."

"And when will that be?" asked Will.

"Until I find scenario where we end up together."

"Don't you see, Halt?" Will almost exclaimed. He sat up, off of Halt, and turned at an angle where he could face him without getting off the couch. "It's impossible. I can't live my life without doing something that you can't let happen. We're just going in circles, trying to have it all… It's just a game of Russian Roulette."

More thunder reminded them of the rising storm outside. They didn't need it, because they were feeling it just as well inside.

"There's nothing either of us could've done," Will said. "Just let me tell everyone, one more time-"

"Somebody's going to get hurt, Will, but hurting my friends is not what's inevitable here," said Halt. A few tears crawled down his face.

Will had never seen Halt cry before. Whenever one of them was crying, it was always Will. He could think of countless instances… but he'd always looked so perfect when he did. Beautifully broken.

When he was freshly off his high and Halt was carrying him home.

When he was talking with him outside the Starbucks.

Back to that very first moment when he saw his front come down and it hurt something inside him.

So it was agreed. They were playing a game of Russian Roulette, and Halt had fired his revolver, if he had a revolver, five times. No bullets had come out, and five opportunities were gone.

"Any other situation, and none of this would be happening." The end of a cold, life-taking barrel pressed against the other side of Will's head, opposite from Halt. "Any other world, and I'd never let you go."

Will nodded. Tears rolled down his face, identical to the ones on Halt's face and the raindrops on the window. "I know," he whispered.

"Any other world and I…" he sobbed.

 _"And how are those things that crawled up inside your head?"_

And yet, Halt's gun came down. He turned to face the TV, like everything was normal again and it was a normal Friday, movie night. Will played along. There was nothing he could do now. Any move he made, the same thing would happen. So he gave Halt the wheel.

 _"There's something very damaged about you,_

 _But I've got a bad habit of never giving up,_

 _Even when you want me to."_

…So Halt released all thought, and threw it up in the air for somebody else to decide if there was anything else he could do. It's not a good way to spend your last few seconds thinking.

 _"I can feel the dawn peering in,_

 _And I'm gonna lose you all over again."_

"It was never possible," Halt whispered. "Was it?"

"No," Will agreed. He thought back to everything that had happened in the past three days. "Everything we could've possibly done would've ended us up here, so there's nothing to be sad about. The only way we wouldn't be here right now… is if you had killed me the first time you saw me."

"I kind of wish I had, now," said Halt, honestly.

"I kind of do, too."

 _"Let's shoot some drugs and fall in love,_

 _Cause I feel like getting tangled up in your bones."_

"I found it," Halt said, suddenly, whispering into Will's hair. He smelled nice. Like happiness… almost.

"Found what?" Will asked. His eyes were closed, and he was listening closely to Halt's heartbeat. Even through his jacket, this time, he could hear it. It was beating so quickly, he thought it would explode. And yet, it was still so relaxing. So centered. He memorized it, for later.

 _"Someone gave you up; you were prosthetic in love…"_

"That better thing, that makes up for all the other, meaningless tragedies that happened before," Halt answered.

 _"But I will keep you…"_

He lifted his arm, again, and touched the cold end of his gun to his target's head. "You know it'll always be you," the assassin said.

 _"Carved inside my gun."_

And he did. He kept him, carved, inside his retinas. When he stepped outside, and drenched himself in the rain falling from the black hole above him, no water could wash the blood off his clothes, where Will's head used to lay.


End file.
